Fallout: The Novelisation
by Flopsie
Summary: Follow Player Name in his quest to find his father, Liam Neeson.
1. Prologue

I own nothing. For I am a communist.

FALLOUT: THE NOVELISATION

PROLOGUE

The monotone bleep of the cardiometer was broken by the cries of the newly delivered infant. The child opened its eyes for its first glimpse of a strange new world. Towering above it, the child could make out the silhouette of the first human being it had ever seen, the man who had delivered it, Dr Liam Neeson.

'Hi there, little guy!' said Liam Neeson. 'I'm your daddy. Dad-ee! Now, let's see if you're a boy or a girl. Oh, it's a boy! Whoof! And what a boy! I thought that was the umbilical cord for a moment. He takes after his old man! Look Catherine! We've got a son! A beautiful, healthy baby boy!'

'Oh James, er I mean Liam Neeson,' said Catherine, the boy's mother. Her voice was weak from the throes of labour. 'We did it! A son!'

Liam Neeson looked over his new born son, bursting with pride. 'You're going to need a name. Your mother and I have been talking. What do you think about...Player Name? It's a good name.'

A mechanical whirr alerted Liam Neeson to a small screen hanging from the ceiling.

'Ah, it looks like they've finished the gene projection! With this we'll be able to see what you look like in nineteen years time. Why precisely nineteen years I have no idea, but I suspect that something significant will happen around then. Anyway, let's see what you'll look like.'

An image of a young man slowly came into view, bearing a striking resemblance to Liam Neeson.

'I love these things,' said Liam Neeeson. 'They even show you the exact haircut that the subject will have at that point in time. Hey Catherine! Look! That's what our boy will look like in the future!'

'Oh, very strapping! Just like his father, Liam Neeson!'

By this time, Player Name had fallen asleep, safe in his father Liam Neeson's arms.

'It's a big world out there,' said Liam Neeson. 'But you've got a good life ahead of you. I'm sure of it.'

Suddenly, the placid monotone of the cardiometer intensified.

'Liam Neeson! Help me!' moaned Catherine, before slumping into unconsciousness.

'Catherine!' yelled Liam Neeson. Handing the child to his colleague, Dr Li, Liam Neeson rushed over to the limp body of his wife.

'Get the boy out of here! She's in cardiac arrest! Move!'

'Yes, Liam Neeson,' said Dr Li.

Suddenly, there was a blinding white flash.


	2. Player's Day Out

_Sorry this took so long. If anyone is still bothered about reading this here's Chapter One. _

_By the way, thanks for your reviews. If you were to forward me your bank details I would, of course, be happy to reward you for your kind words._

The light receded and Player Name found that he had been catapulted a year into the future. The now one-year-old child found himself in his father Liam Neeson's room, and much to his and his father's delight, realised he could now walk on two legs.

"Sorry to have to leave you on your own, but Daddy has to go and do some work," said Liam Neeson. "But don't worry; like the responsible parent I am I've confined you to this flimsily-built playpen with a gate even a one-year-old child could open."

Liam Neeson then lovingly handed the boy a loaded pistol.

"Here," he said. "I'm not always going to be here to look after you. You're a one-year-old man now and you're going to have to learn to fend for yourself.

"If anyone else comes in while I'm gone, shoot the fucker. All right?"

"Wub bub," said the infant obediently.

And with that, Liam Neeson departed.

As soon as the door shut, the boy, somewhat predictably, swung the gate open with minimal effort, dawdling out to explore the rest of the room. After a fun half-hour spent leaping head-first from the assortment of furniture in the room, he soon tired of it and turned his attention to the baby-book lying on the floor.

"You're Special!" was his favourite book. In fact it was his only book, but there was nothing he enjoyed more than leafing his way through the chewable, cardboard pages, learning to read the little poems within which gave important lessons on growing up; such as the benefits of strength, endurance and perception, as well as the importance of regular firearm maintenance and instructions on how to build a bottlecap landmine.

But it wasn't long before the boy's attention drew him elsewhere again.

Liam Neeson couldn't help but raise a chuckle as he came back to find his son sucking on one of the sharp corners of his toybox.

"You are quite the explorer aren't you!" he laughed. "Well, you might as well come over here, as I'm about to foreshadow the plot.

"Do you see this?" he asked, gesturing towards a framed passage on the end-table. "It's from the Bible. Revelation 21:6. _I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the Water of Life. _Now remember that, it could save your life one day. Or maybe not."

"Gub glub," replied Player Name, which Liam Neeson took to mean "Yes I understand."

Suddenly there was a blinding white flash...


	3. Birthday Bash

_A reminder that this perverse bastardisation of Fallout 3 has no affiliation whatsoever with those who own the rights. I own nothing, not even Liam Neeson._

The light receded, and Player Name was dismayed to find he was now ten-years-old, standing in the vault cafeteria surrounded by his father, Liam Neeson™, and his friends.

"Happy birthday!" they all cried in unison.

"Hey!" he growled. "What happened to the intervening nine years?"

"Never mind that son," said Liam Neeson™. "It's your birthday today and we here in the vault have thrown a party for you."

"Ooh, thanks Dad Liam Neeson™," remarked Player Name excitedly.

"Don't mention it," said Liam Neeson™, grinning his suave grin. "Now go and mingle with your guests. I imagine they want to give you your presents."

First up was a dark-haired girl of similar age to Player Name. "Hello," she said. "I'm Amata, your best friend."

"Have we met?" asked Player Name.

"Don't be silly," said Amata. "Any more of that and I won't be able to give you your present now will I?"

"I'm sorry," said Player Name, "now gimme gimme gimme."

"All right all right! One question: who's your favourite barbarian?"

"Conaaaaaaaan!"

"That's right! Grognak!"

"Who?"

Amata duly handed him a dog-eared Grognak the Barbarian comic book.

"I found it while I was going through my dad's stuff," she added. "I don't think he'll mind if you have it; he's a little old for comics now."

Amata's father was in fact the Overseer of Vault 101, the man in overall charge of this little underground civilisation. A jolly, good-natured man, he was well-liked and respected by everyone; seldom was he seen without a smile on his face. Player Name was honoured to see that the Overseer had come to the party and was now coming towards him with a delightfully expensive-looking present.

"Well, you cheeky young scallywag," said the Overseer. "Today you turn ten and therefore you become a working member of our little community. In honour of this momentous occasion I would like to present you with your very own Pip-Boy!"

The Pip-Boy was a mini-computer worn around the forearm, with several useful features such as a GPS, a Geiger Counter, a radio and Snake. Player Name strapped on the device and eagerly began to tinker with its assorted gizmos and gadgets.

"Erm, it doesn't appear to come off," said Player Name.

"Of course it doesn't come off!" laughed the Overseer. "You must wear it forever. Wait a minute! What's that you've got there?"

The Overseer snatched the Grognak the Barbarian comic out of Player Name's hand.

"This is my comic!" snarled the Overseer. "What is the meaning of this outrage?"

"Amata gave it to me," replied Player Name. "It was her birthday present."

"Lies! You stole it from me! I tell you this boy, you'll rue the day you ever crossed the Overseer. My wrath be upon you until the day you die! And the rest of the vault will suffer for your insubordination too!"

With those words, he stormed back to his office, muttering threats of vengeance.

"He used to be such a friendly bloke too," remarked Liam Neeson™. "Never mind, I'm sure there's someone else waiting to give you a present. Why don't you talk to Granny over there?"

Indeed Granny did have a present. "Hello youngster," she said to Player Name. "I bet you're looking forward to this, eh?"

"Shut the hell up and give me your stupid present you withered old mangy whore!" snapped Player Name, who was still a little cranky after his run-in with the Overseer.

Granny laughed. "Boys will be boys!" she said. "I admire your tendency to speak your mind. Never lose that quality. In the meantime, here's your present. A nice sweetroll! Isn't that lovely?"

"Thanks, you stupid trout," said Player Name politely.

Unbeknown to him, Granny's present had attracted the attention of someone else. Butch had never been one of Player Name's favourite people. The permanent sneer etched across his face betrayed the pent up anger and frustration within this young man. Butch had taken the mandatory career aptitude test at sixteen and the conclusion had been reached purely based on his macho name; he was to be trained up as the resident bully. He was 21 now and his voice still hadn't broken, so he had whole-heartedly embraced his chosen career as a means of revenge against those who ridiculed him for his squeaky tones.

"Hey you!" said Butch. "Gimme that sweetroll or I'll punch your head in."

"No," said Player Name defiantly.

Boof.

Liam Neeson™ gave a fatherly smile as Player Name came over to him massaging his newly-acquired black eye.

"Having trouble with that bully son?" he asked.

"He took my sweetroll Dad Liam Neeson™!"

Liam Neeson™ sighed. "You're going to have to learn to take care of bullies yourself son, I'm not always going to be here to look after you. You're a ten-year-old adult now and you're going to have to learn to fend for yourself. But here, take this sawn-off shotgun. A few rounds of buckshot to the face might make him think twice."

The boy fumbled with the weapon as if it were a lit stick of dynamite. "Erm, I don't think that's such a good idea," he said, handing it back.

"Oh all right. But just think about what I've said."

Having had enough for one day, Player Name decided to retire from the party to nurse his throbbing eye-socket. But as he moved into the corridor his blood froze. Ambling towards him was a cock-eyed woman with a crazed grin across her face.

_Oh no! _thought Player Name. _It's creepy poem lady!_

"Hey sweetie!" she called out. "I wrote a nice poem for your birthday! Come and listen to my nice poem!"

Player Name quickly slipped back into the cafeteria to ask for the gun back.

Suddenly there was a blinding white flash...


	4. Graduation Day

The light subsided once more and Player Name found himself in the vault clinic. The only other person in the room was Liam Neeson, who didn't seem especially pleased to see him.

"Dad," said Player Name. "I seem to have a tendency to jump through time with disturbing regularity. I don't even know how old I am anymore."

"Well, as far as I can tell, you're a perfectly healthy 16-year-old," replied Liam Neeson. "A 16-year-old man who still hasn't learned to fend for himself. Remember, I'm not always going to be here to look after you. I have a minigun in my locker if you need it."

"No, it's okay."

"Oh well, don't say I didn't ask. Anyway it's time for you to get going to class. You've got a goat to take."

"Whatever you say, Dad. Is there anything I need to know about the goat?"

"Yes. He's big, smelly and keeps trying to eat my lab coat. Now get him out of here please, Mr Brotch, your teacher, is waiting for him."

So Player Name took hold of the rope around the animal's neck and led him to Mr Brotch's classroom. Along the way, however, he noticed Amata, who was apparently his best friend, being harassed by Butch and his gang.

"Leave me alone!" cried Amata. "I can't help it if I don't look anything like Odette Yustman."

"Tunnel Snakes rule!" yelled Butch. This was the name Butch had given to the gang, each member establishing their membership by the wearing of brown leather jackets. With a picture of a snake on the back. Hence they were the Tunnel Snakes. And they ruled.

"Is there a problem here?" asked Player Name, trying to sound as macho as it is possible for a 16-year-old to sound.

"None of your business," hissed a generic gang-member. "We're harassing Amata because she's different. She must suffer."

"Leave her alone or you'll answer to the goat!" snapped Player Name, trying to push the creature in their direction.

Butch laughed, which he had been doing a lot more often ever since his voice broke six months ago.

"Ha! What's he going to do, eat our clothes?"

He is eating our clothes!" cried another gang member. "My leather jacket! He's eating my leather jacket! Let's get outta here!"

And so, the Tunnel Snakes scattered before the might of the goat, who nonchalantly continued to chew on a piece of brown leather.

"Thanks for getting rid of them," said Amata. "Assholes. I don't know why they won't leave me alone. Just because I don't look anything like Odette Yustman I guess."

Amata, along with Player Name, had been on her way to class, for today was the career aptitude test which every 16-year-old in the vault was required to take. This test decided the future career of each and every resident, and despite widespread cynicism over its validity, the Overseer had whole-heartedly endorsed it as he enjoyed upsetting people. Curiously, along with Amata and Player Name, Butch was retaking the test at the age of 27 as the Overseer didn't quite believe he was as old as he was.

Player Name reached class and handed the rope leash to Mr Brotch.

"Ah, it's good to have old Billy back. I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

"I don't know," said Player Name. "I only jumped forward here from six years in the past about ten minutes ago."

"Ah, I see," said Mr Brotch. "Anyway, are you ready for the test?"

"Ohh, I don't really have to take the test do I Mr Brotch?"

"Look," said Mr Brotch, "we both know the exam is a complete farce. So I'll tell you what I'm going to do. You tell me how you want the results to come out and I'll make sure it happens."

"Great!" said Player Name. "I want to be a lumberjack!"

"Huh? But I..."

"I said I want to be a lumberjack," repeated Player Name through gritted teeth.

"Okay, okay! I'll see what I can do."

"I don't want to take the test either," said another student who had overheard the conversation.

Mr Brotch whipped around angrily.

"You just shut the hell up and sit where you are!" he snarled.

"But Player Name..."

"What part of shut the hell up don't you get?"

Suddenly there was a blinding white flash...

"Oh no, not again..." said Player Name.


	5. Revenge

"Wake up!"

Player Name was roused from a disturbingly erotic dream about giant sour-faced Hollywood actor Brad Garrett to find his best friend Amata standing over him.

"Come on!" she crowed, "you have to wake up now."

"Fuck off," mumbled Player Name. "Five more minutes."

Amata angrily whipped off the bedcover and pulled Player Name off the bed, sending him crashing to the cold metal floor in an unceremonious heap.

"Now mister!" she snapped.

"All right, all right, I'm up!" he groaned, rising to his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's your father. He's left the Vault!"

"Say what?"

"Liam Neeson has left the Vault! I don't know how, I don't know why, but all I know is he's gone!"

"I know that!" said Player Name. "He said he was slipping out for a beer. I can't believe you woke me up just to tell me that!"

"He did? Oh, how long ago?"

Player Name glanced at his bedside alarm clock. "Umm, about eighteen hours ago now I think."

"Seems an awful long time ago, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose. But it could be he just have had one too many and he's now lying unconscious in a field somewhere. Anyway was that all?"

"Well...no." Amata said, fidgeting nervously. It's my father...he's kind of gone crazy. Player Name, I'm sorry but he's killed Billy the goat."

"He's what?"

"He said it was for the good of the vault. Goat meat is quite nutritious you know."

From within the realms of Player Name's temperament, a gasket blew and raw feral rage erupted, clouding his thoughts with a burning desire for revenge.

"Player Name?" said Amata nervously. "You seem somewhat agitated." She could only watch helplessly as he reached for his baseball bat, his eyes burning with murderous rage. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find your father," replied Player Name, "and I'm going to introduce him to a new kind of pain."

"No! Player Name, I know you're upset about the goat, but you can't hurt my father! He only did it for the good of the vault! I'm begging you, please don't do anything rash!"

Player Name gave a deep sigh, venting off the anger which had overwhelmed him. He patted Amata on the back.

"You're a good friend Amata, my best one apparently. Perhaps you're right, maybe I am acting a little rash. Tell you what, I'll air my grievances with your father in a non-violent manner, then we can resolve the issue like rational, civilised human beings."

Amata's face lit up. "I knew you'd see my way of thinking."

"But I'm still taking the baseball bat with me." added Player Name. "Just for protection you understand."

"Oh, erm, okay," said Amata. "But before you leave, could you please put some clothes on? The nudity will make things a little awkward."

* * *

And so, fully clothed in vault overalls still wielding his trusty baseball bat, Player Name began the short walk from his bedroom to the Overseer's office. As he stepped into the hallway, he encountered Larry, one of the cleaners. Normally Larry was an amiable man who would talk to anyone. But something here was different, he was armed, brandishing a deadly-looking mop. And he was coming towards Player Name. There was no telling what he might do.

"Oh, hi Player Name!" he called. "How are you to..." He was stopped in mid sentence as Player Name brought the bat crashing down across his skull.

"Die you son of a bitch!" snarled Player Name as Larry crumpled.

Just then, two more enemies approached, chatting amicably about their day in a particularly sinister manner. They didn't stand a chance as they were ambushed and brutally battered to the ground, ridding the world of their evil methods of conversation.

A technician carrying a heavy-looking toolbox was the next to fall. After defeating the foe, Player Name opened the toolbox and was horrified to find such a large collection of deadly looking tools; heavy wrenches, lethal sharp screwdrivers and a macabre arsenal of screws, each of which could have had an eye out. The damage he could have done was too terrible to consider.

You evil bastard, thought Player Name. I stopped you just in time.

There was no time to draw breath before a shift supervisor shot him...with a deadly grin of acknowledgement. Player Name was equal to him though, smashing his teeth out and disarming him of the lethally reassuring smile.

"Revenge!" cried Player Name. "Revenge for the goat!"

Then Player Name heard a sound which turned his blood to ice.

"Hey there sweetie! I wrote a poem for you!"

The creepy poem lady blocked the way to the Overseer's office! She had a poem, and she was threatening to read it. Player Name desperately tried to still the rising fear in his heart and raised the bat.

"Back!" he cried. "Back, damn you!"

"But I want to read you my poem! You must listen to my poem!"

He swung the bat, hitting the side of her head with a sickening crack, but she absorbed the blow as if it were nothing and kept on coming.

"You must listen to my poem!" she repeated.

Player Name brought the bat down three more times dealing the creepy poem lady a great blue-black bruise across her forehead, but she continued to advance relentlessly. A fourth blow broke the makeshift weapon in two. Player Name watched in dismay as his only means of defence clattered uselessly to the floor.

"Listen to my poem!" she cried. The massive bruise on her head was rapidly receding, and Player Name realised his powers were useless against her. She had her arms outstretched, her poem primed and ready for recital.

But Player Name was quicker, and he slipped through her legs like a terrified cat. He gestured victoriously and ran as fast as he could.

He had escaped. Now only the Overseer remained.


	6. First Light

His eyes were blazing, his heart was beating hard; Player Name was in hunt mode and the prey stood before him, the unremarkable old man with the contemptuous sneer. The Overseer had to die.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said. "Get out of my office!"

"You," growled Player Name. "I've come for you. I've come for my revenge."

"What? What on earth are you on about you mad fool?"

"Billy! I've come to avenge Billy!"

"Who?"

Player Name raised a fist to strike. "You bastard, I'll kill you!"

"No seriously, who's Billy?"

"Billy! The goat you killed in cold blood you bastard!"

"The goat? Ah yes, the goat. Yes, he did go down well with a glass of red."

With these words Player Name sprung upon him and began beating him with his fists in a frenzied rage.

"Why?" roared Player Name. "Why?"

"I'll tell you why, you ill-mannered delinquent," said the Overseer as he frantically grabbed at the flurry of fists beating down on him. "I still haven't forgotten the time you stole my Grognak the Barbarian comic. I swore I'd make you pay didn't I."

"It wasn't my fault! I wanted Conaaaan!"

"Mark my words. When I'm through with you you'll be in big trouble. I might not even let you have any goat-meat."

"Nooooooo!" The strikes became more powerful, fuelled by rage, and Player Name broke through the Overseer's defence. Blow after blow landed on his head, drawing blood, the fist flurry smearing it across his face and over Player Name's hands. The Overseer yelled, calling for the guards, but no one came.

After ten minutes of sustained punishment the yelling stopped. Player Name stopped, the old man lay still, his face soaked in blood.

"The only one in big trouble is you you old bastard," growled Player Name, and then he froze, for there in the doorway was his best friend Amata.

"Hi best friend!" she chimed. "Who's the guy lying in a pool of blood on the floor of my father's office?"

"Erm, what would you say if I told you it was your dad?"

"Oh. I don't know. I guess I'd be really upset."

"Ah, damn. I was afraid you might say that."

"Why? Who is it?"

"It's your dad."

"What? But...who...why...how did this happen?"

"Well, that's actually a funny story..."

It was then that Amata caught sight of Player Name's bruised and bloody fists and her eyes narrowed.

"Did you have something to do with this?"

"I can explain."

"Please do."

"Well, I...erm...I was...helping out your father...I was...shampooing the carpet in his office, and as I was scrubbing...he...he slipped on the carpet shampoo...and by an unfortunate coincidence...landed on my clenched fist...really, really hard"

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. It's a dangerous business, shampooing carpets."

"Look down."

Player Name looked down at the floor.

"What do you see?"

"A floor."

"More specifically, a floor without a carpet."

"Ahh..so it is."

Amata felt her father's jugular and looked up with grim eyes.

"He's dead," she said coldly. "Dude, you killed my father. Not cool."

"Whoops. Guess I messed up, huh?" Player Name forced a weak laugh. Amata did not laugh back.

"You need to get out of here," she said. "You need to leave the vault."

"What?"

"Yes, I know you always thought my father was a dick, but there was certainly no call for senseless violence. You need to leave the vault and you need to leave now."

"Oh, well, I guess you're right. Anyway, it'll give me a chance to find my father, who is Liam Neeson."

"Yes it will," said Amata. Come on, I'll come with you as far as the door."

And so they walked to the vault entrance, sealed by a massive steel door.

"I wonder how we'll get it open?" said Amata. "The door looks almost impenetrable."

Suddenly there was a frenzy of light and sound; sirens blared with a swirling orange light as the opening mechanism locked into place. The noise subsided to be replaced by a heavy steel groan as the mighty door reluctantly slid open.

"How impressively dramatic," said Player Name who was standing behind a console podium.

"You did it, you opened the door!" said Amata. "My god, I almost didn't think it was possible."

"Well, it wasn't exactly difficult," said Player Name gesturing towards the console. "All I had to do was pull this lever here."

They looked through the newly opened doorway leading into a rock tunnel. At the end, there was a faint glint of light.

"Now you have to leave," said Amata. "So I'll say goodbye. And if you do find your Dad, tell him I'm asking for him. He was hot."

"Yes, I will and...wait, what did you say?"

"I said he was a good man."

"Right, well, guess this is good bye. And sorry about that whole murdering your dad thing.

"Oh, that's okay," said Amata, giving him a friendly punch, "ya big lug."

And with that, Player Name stepped into the tunnel, leaving the vault forever. It led towards a rickety wooden door, which Player Name opened, wondering all the time what lay beyond.

Suddenly there was a blinding white flash...

...but it was only the sun shining in his eyes. He paused for a moment to allow his vision to adjust, and then he saw it for the first time. The outside world. The cave from which he emerged was situated on a hill, and from this vantage point he could see for miles in every direction. The view was breathtaking.

The first thing that struck him about the landscape was how brown it was. Really, really browm. A great big dusty ocean of brown, whichever way he looked; a veritable kaleidoscope of light browns, dark browns, dirty browns, mud browns, etcetera. With some rocky bits, which were grey with a dusting of brown.

In the distance, he thought he could see another hill. That was brown too.

_Right,_ thought Player Name. _Enough sightseeing. Time to find Dad._

He looked around, trying to decide which direction to move in. To the north was barren wasteland, while the south seemed to consist mainly of barren wasteland. Westwards, the landscape was more of a barren wasteland while to the east the barren wasteland gave way to barren wasteland.

_Decisions decisions._


	7. Raider

_Remember, a goat is for life, not just for dinner._

He was the biggest bad-ass in the wasteland. At least he wished he was. He was a raider, one of the many feral gangs who roamed the land, plundering, killing, destroying wherever they went. Dressed in spiked masochist leather, a homicidal sneer permanently etched across his scarred features, he struck fear into the hearts of the wanderers and merchants foolish enough to risk the dangerous wastes.

At least he liked to think he did. Because aside his near-rabid aggression, aside his fearsome spiked apparel, aside the terrifying mohawk hairdo he sported and aside the arsenal of blades and firearms he kept about himself, there was one major issue in his life that rendered it all quite useless.

His name was Ricky.

The decent people of the wasteland were hardly likely to be frozen with fear when they heard that Ricky the Raider was on the scene.

It made him mad that he had been cursed with such a stupid name. It made him mad and even worse it made him insecure. Terribly, horribly insecure. The other raiders laughed at him. They made fun of him, jeered him, degraded him. How could he possibly be the biggest bad-ass when he courted only mockery and ridicule amongst his peers?

All because of that stupid name.

Well, things would be different from now on. He had abandoned his gang and gone solo. He would be the lone wolf from now on, the man with no name, the rebel without a cause. He would become the bad-ass he had always wanted to be.

He would make the wasteland pay, starting with the poor sap in the vault-suit heading straight into the ambush he had prepared. He watched him approach, from behind his hiding place, a great protruding rock standing alone in middle of the flat, dusty land.

Ricky the Raider watched the fear and surprise in Player Name's eyes as he leapt from his hiding place and liked it. He was thrilled by it. Waving the shotgun in his hands he began laughing maniacally.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you slow, bitch!" he roared. "I'm gonna tear your goddamn heart out and eat it! I'm gonna crack ya motherfuckin' skull open and rip your freakin' brains out!"

"Please don't kill me," begged Player Name. "I don't want any trouble."

"Ha! You'll always find trouble when I'm around. I'm the biggest muthafuckin' bad-ass this wasteland has ever seen! I'm the fuckin' king! I'm..."

"Do you have to swear to gratuitously? I kind of got the idea that you're a big scary guy by the dirty great gun you're waving about, not to mention the spiky leather bondage thing you've got going on."

"Yeah, that's right, I'm a scary muthafucka, 'cos I'm a bad shit-ass raider!"

"Wait, what did you say?"

"I said I'm a scary muthafucka."

"No, after that."

"I said I'm a bad, shit-ass raider."

"You're a bad shit-ass raider? Do you even know what that means? You're just swearing unnecessarily now. Saying you're shit-ass just suggests you suck as a raider."

The words struck Ricky like a brick to the head. He was suddenly gripped by a flashback of all the other raiders in the gang laughing at him. All of them, pointing at him and laughing and saying mean things. Really mean and nasty things. The gun in his hands began to quiver.

"The other raiders said I suck," said Ricky weakly. "They all did."

"Guess you made a Freudian slip huh?"

It was all too much. Ricky collapsed in a sobbing heap, his spirit crushed like a flea beneath an anvil. What kind of a raider lets a dorky vault-dweller get the better of him?

"It's true!" he wailed. "I do suck! I ain't no raider! I'm just a big fat failure."

"Oh, there there," said Player Name giving him an unenthusiastic pat on the back. "I'm sure there's something else you can do instead."

"But being a raider is all I've ever known! I don't even know how to tie my own shoelaces! What else could I possibly do with myself?"

"I don't know. You could become a farmer and grow a nice little vegetable garden, or maybe become an artist, or maybe you could sing or act or...or..."

"Or maybe you should go home and be a family man," said Guile from Street Fighter.

"Hey, where did you come from?" asked Player Name.

"Never mind that maggot. Now shut up and give me twenty."

"Twenty what?"

"Sonic boom," said Guile and Player Name was immediately struck full in the face by a sonic boom. The blast knocked him off his feet and he hit the dust, unconscious.


	8. Megaton

Player Name woke up, and found himself lying on an old, rusty bed. Looking up at the ceiling he could see a naked light bulb, the raw light burning into his eyes. As the post-sleep blurriness subsided he began to make out more and more of the room. The walls were of rusting, corrugated iron and there was a strong smell of turpentine.

"Ah, so you're finally awake," said a harsh, unfriendly voice. "So do you remember what happened?"

Player Name sat up groggily, seeing the grim frown of an aged man in medical scrubs.

"Yes," said Player Name. "I was attacked by a raider with severe emotional issues, and then I was sonic-boomed by Guile from Street Fighter. You should get away from here; he might still be around!"

"I doubt that," said the man, brandishing what looked like an inhaler. "That's just what happens when you start taking this shit. We found about eight of these things on you when you were brought in. Remember these?"

"Yes," said Player Name, "I found them in the ruins of a building, shortly before I was ambushed. They're really good. So damn good."

"Yes, that's what the other junkies say," said the man. "These things that seem 'so good' are known as jet, an extremely powerful hallucinogenic narcotic. I'm afraid they're are responsible for your little 'encounter.'"

"You mean I didn't really see Guile from Street Fighter?"

"It's highly unlikely that you did."

"Awww. I'm strangely disappointed. Can I have my sniffy-sniff back then?"

"It's best that I keep this away from you, that way you're less likely to experience random encounters with miscellaneous video game characters. It's for your own good."

"Oh well. I can live with that. Where am I anyway?"

"This is the town of Megaton and I'm Doc Church, the stereotypically grumpy doctor. You were brought here by a group of traders who found you lying on the ground out of your face. You're lucky: most people would have just robbed you blind and left you for dead. You've been here in my clinic ever since where I've looked after you, which brings me to another important matter. How do you plan to pay for your treatment?"

"Uhh, pay?"

"Yes," said Doc Church. "Normally when someone provides a service they expect to be recompensed for their efforts."

"Heh, well you know it's a funny story actually. I'm totally broke. Would you believe it?"

Player Name began to laugh. Doc Church did not.

* * *

As Player Name tumbled out the clinic doorway, landing face first in a muddy puddle, he looked around, and was left speechless.

Having spent his entire life amidst the prim and proper orderliness of Vault 101, the town of Megaton came as a severe culture shock. The area was a chaotic sprawl of crudely built shanties constructed from sheet metal, corrugated iron and any other scrap at hand. The town was built in a crater and so the buildings seemed to rise up in every direction as they straddled the edges of the great hole.

"So you're the junkie from the vault they brought in," said a tough-looking man. Dressed in a Stetson hat with a sheriff's badge pinned to his duster, he seemed to have stepped right out of a western. "You want to be keeping away from that stuff, or else I'm gonna be keeping you away from my town."

"Great," said Player Name. "I'm out of the vault for less than a day and now everyone thinks I'm a junkie."

"First impressions count kid. Law of the jungle. By the way, I never did introduce myself. I'm the sheriff of this here town. Sheriff Lucas Simms."

"Is that so? Well, howdy partner."

"Don't patronise me."

"Sorry. I have to say this is a nice little town you got here sheriff. May I ask what that big, metal thing is sticking out of the ground over there?"

"It's a nuclear bomb," replied the sheriff casually. "The town was originally built around it. How do you think it got the name Megaton?"

"Say what? A nuclear bomb? That's crazy! Is it safe?"

"No."

"Why in the name of god would anyone build a town around a nuclear bomb?"

"Why do you think? Tourism of course. And it's a great conversational piece."

"Do you get many tourists out here?"

"No, they're all frightened away by the bomb. Anyway I really don't have time for idle chit-chat. Is there something you actually need?"

"Now that you mention it, there is. I'm looking for my father, who is Liam Neeson. Have you seen him?"

"Wow, you're looking for your father, who is Liam Neeson?"

"Yes, I'm looking for my father, who is Liam Nesson."

"Hey!" said the sheriff to a couple of passers-by. "This guy's looking for his father, who is Liam Neeson!"

"Wow, he's looking for his father, who is Liam Neeson?"

"Yes, he's looking for his father, who is Liam Neeson!"

"Hey!" said someone leaning out a window. "Did I hear someone say that they were looking for their father, who is Liam Neeson?"

"Yes, he's looking..."

"Okay okay, enough! Have you seen him or not?"

"Why yes," said the sheriff. "He stopped by here for a beer. If I were you, I'd check out Moriarty's Bar to find out more."


	9. Business Proposal

Getting around town wasn't easy. Being built in a crater meant that buildings in Megaton were literally piled one on top of the other, and the only visibly infrastructure was a seemingly random network of walkways, some of which literally led nowhere. The higher buildings were linked by a series of unnervingly rickety bridges. Megaton was not the ideal place for those afraid of heights.

Moriarty's Bar sat near the rim of the crater and Player Name drew several suspicious glances as he entered. But there was one at least who seemed quite pleased to see him.

"Why hello there," said a thin-faced man in a pronounced Irish accent. "Now I know for a fact I haven't seen you in here before."

"That you haven't," said Player Name, who was immediately unnerved by the hawk features of the man. It was the eyes, those black, bird-eyes, watching him like a predator eyes its prey.

"I'm Colin Moriarty," he continued, giving Player Name a pumping handshake that threatened to jostle his arm loose. "I'm the owner and proprietor of this fine establishment. And it's a pleasure to welcome the latest escapee from Vault 101."

"The latest escapee?" Player Name's heart skipped a beat. "Then you've seen my father?"

"Ah, so you're Liam Neeson's son are you? Good god, ain't seen you since you were a baby. How time flies, eh?"

"What are you talking about? I've spent all my life in the vault. My dad said so."

Moriarty burst out laughing. "Is that a fact? Well, I'm afraid that daddy-dearest's been telling you porkies lad. Twenty years ago it must have been when he came in here with you just a wee baby, looking for a place to live. Sorry about your mum by the way."

"But that's ridiculous. Why would he have lied to me?"

Moriarty put an arm around Player Name's shoulder. "Listen lad. I know you probably think the sun shines out of your dad's arse, but it's time you learned that everyone tells little white lies from time to time. Even daddy-dearest. You're going to have to wise up fast; wouldn't want anyone...taking advantage of you."

"Yes, I get it," said Player Name. "You have a manipulative personality. You don't need to make it so obvious."

"Just giving you a friendly warning, that's all."

"Mr Moriarty, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Depends how personal it is."

"You're an Irishman, correct?"

"Well, fuck me, how do Mensa survive without you?"

"So let me ask you this. Bearing in mind that most forms of transportation were destroyed in the war, how am I to believe therefore that anyone has the capability to come all the way across the Atlantic from Ireland to the east coast of America?"

For the first time in many, many years, Moriarty was completely unsure of how to respond. He looked around nervously, conscious of what people were thinking; normally he couldn't care less about others' opinions.

"Hey, he does have a point, Colin," said a barfly between swigs."

"Shut your face," said Moriarty.

"Well?" said Player Name. "It's a valid observation. Are you really from Ireland?"

"Er..."

"You aren't, are you?"

"All right!" snapped Moriarty in a distinctly un-Irish accent. "I'm from Boston all right? Surely that's not far off from being Irish, is it? I just thought the accent would help boost sales, and bolster the stereotype that all bars are run by Irishmen."

"Ha ha, looks like I caught you out, eh?"

"I officially hate you now."

"Aww, don't be like that."

"Fuck you."

"Can you at least tell me where my dad went?"

"No. Piss off."

"Oh please."

Moriarty grinned like a devil, a plan brewing in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind. "I guess I was a little hasty. I'll tell you what, I have a proposal for you. I'll tell you where daddy went, but first you have to pay me five hundred caps."

"Five hundred what? What on earth's a cap?"

"Why it's the local currency lad. Bottle-caps, any kind'll do. Bring me five hundred and your dad's location is yours."

"Where am I going to find five hundred bottle-caps?"

"Dunno. Maybe you should get a job. I hear Moira Brown over at Craterside Supply is looking for a new research assistant."

Player Name gave a defeated sigh. "Guess I haven't got a choice, have I?"

"It would seem not."

"Fine," he growled and stormed off to find Craterside Supply.

Moriarty chuckled to himself.

"Poor bastard doesn't know what he's letting himself in for."

Then a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey, wait a minute! Doesn't his dad have an Irish accent too?"


	10. Fluffyman

Moira Brown's store was a treasure trove of old junk. Everywhere Player Name looked there was a pile of useless things, from rusted wheel-rims to grimy pipes to wooden boxes full of old tin cans.

Moira herself stood at the centre of this makeshift Aladdins cave and Player Name couldn't help being slightly nervous at the mildly-crazed grin etched across her mousey features.

"Why hello there," she chirped, pumping Player Name enthusiastically by the hand. "Looks like we've got another stray from the vault. So good to meet you. I'm Moira Brown and I run this store."

A surge of excitement gripped Player Name. "Does that mean you've seen my father..."

"...who is Liam Neeson? Yes, I've seen him and all the others who've come out over the years.

They all come here, thinking they were the first to leave the vault and then they go on their way feeling slightly more disillusioned than they did when they came in."

"But I thought my father was the first. The Overseer told us that no one ever leaves the vault. Apart from dad obviously."

"Well, sounds to me like the Overseer has been telling you little fairy-stories. What a big ol' meanie, huh?"

"Well serenade me and call me Kenneth. I truly had no idea. You learn something new every day."

"Yup," said Moira.

"So, do you know where my dad went?"

"Nope," said Moira.

"Aww shoot."

"Oh, don't you worry your little head about it, I'm sure you'll find your daddy soon enough."

"I hope so," said Player Name. "But in the meantime I had another reason for coming here. I understand you're looking for a research assistant?"

"Ooh, yes I am," squealed Moira. "I'm so glad you showed up, it's been hard-going ever since the accident with my last assistant."

"Say what?"

"Yes, it took me ages to scrape him off the ceiling. Oh, but don't worry, that was a one off! I'm really looking forward to working with you as it just so happens I've arranged a field trip into the wasteland tomorrow morning to collect some plant samples for my experiments. You can sleep in the spare bed upstairs tonight. Get an early one in as we'll be up early tomorrow.

Now, are there any questions?"

"Yes," said Player Name. "How far is it to the next state?"

* * *

And so, the pair arose early the next morning, leaving Megaton for the perils of the wastes. Moira's mere presence made Player Name somewhat terrified, but she was also the closest thing he had to a friend in these strange lands so he had little choice but to endure her constant ramblings about the local flora and fauna.

Every so often she would stop and grab a withered old piece of plant-life, or scrape at the charred husk of a dead tree or slip a random bone into one of her sample bags. Each new finding was greeted with squeals of excitement, whereas Player Name preferred to exhale unhappily, surveying the endless dusty dunes that seemed to stretch out forever.

Presently, as Moira stopped to scoop up yet another sample of dirt, Player Name's eye was caught by the most bizarre-looking creature he had ever seen. It just stood there, looking at him with curious eyes.

_I say, _he thought. _What a strange looking animal. _Reaching for a bone from one of Moira's sample bags, he tried to coax the creature towards him while making some reassuring noises.

"Here you go," he said, waving the bone. "Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you."

It seemed to work as the creature took a few tentative steps, its eyes fixed upon the bone.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Moira.

"Look at this," said Player Name, gesturing towards the creature. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Oh yes," said Moira. "A few times, although you don't normally find them around this area."

"Wow, that's amazing. What are they called?"

"Generally, they're known around here as deathclaws."

"Aww." Player Name waved the bone again at the ten-foot-tall creature, and it stared back with yellow reptilian eyes. Standing on two legs like a human, it lashed out at the bone with its sharp talons, drooling through savage-looking teeth the size of steak-knives.

"Are they friendly?"

"Only when they're not hungry."

"Do you think he's hungry now?"

"Deathclaws are always hungry."

"Oh." Player Name took another look at the beast, and suddenly realised that it wasn't the bone it was interested in, but rather his arm holding the bone."

"Erm, do you think we should run?"

"That would be a very sensible idea."

And so they ran, the deathclaw following close behind. It soon became obvious that they would never outrun the ferocious beast, and Player Name silently prayed for a swift death as he ducked to avoid a powerful swipe.

"I can't run much further," he said. "This looks like the end for us."

Suddenly a gunshot roared and the pair turned to see the deathclaw lying motionless on the ground. From atop a knoll they saw a strange man in a trilby and overcoat blowing the smoke away from his recently-fired pistol.

"You looked like you needed some help," said the stranger, "and so here I am."

"Thanks," said Player Name. "I thought we were goners."

"You needn't think that, not when I'm around."

"Who are you?" asked Player Name.

"Who I am is not important. I am known simply as the Mysterious Stranger."

"Well, thank you Mysterious Stranger."

"I do not need your gratitude. I don't need anyone else to remind me how good I am."

"Wait a minute," said Moira. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No, absolutely not. I am known only as the Mysterious Stranger, as I said."

"I know who you are, "she said.

"No you don't."

"Fluffyman! It's really you! By golly, I haven't seen you for years. How are ya?"

"Wait," said Player Name. "Your name's Fluffyman?"

"Yes, my name is Fluffyman," growled the Mysterious Stranger as he glared frostily at Moira.

"As I said, who I am is not important. I am known simply as the Mysterious Stranger."

"I think I'd rather call you Fluffyman. It's less of a mouthful."

"Please don't."

"So anyway, why do they call you Fluffyman?"

"I'm going now," said Fluffyman, and he left, satisfying himself with mental images of Moira being horribly tortured in various ways.


	11. Mr Burke

The next few weeks went by quickly, and as Player Name got to know Moira better, he concluded that he had been a little hasty in judging her. Having initially written her off as being a bit crazy he was now beginning to see her in a different light.

He realised now she was absolutely stark raving bonkers.

"I'm not doing it," he said to Moira. "I do have some sense of self-preservation you know."

"But it won't be as bad as it seems, honestly," said Moira.

"No. So far, you've gotten me to explore a minefield, test out a repellent on vicious giant mutant rats, and explore an old supermarket which turned out to be the biggest raider hideout this side of DC. For god's sake woman, I've even deliberately gotten radiation poisoning just to help you with your stupid experiments."

"My experiments are not stupid!" huffed Moira. "I'll have you know, this is all for a very good cause."

"What cause would that be? Killing me off so you can donate my body to medical research?"

"No. By conducting this very important research, I can help other people survive out there in the big, bad wasteland."

"Oh yes, that would be this book you keep going on about."

"It's not just any book! My wasteland survival guide will save lives!"

"As well as making you very rich..."

"Well..."

"...at my expense."

"Oh now come on, don't be this way. You will get your fair share."

"Player Name gave a shrug of resignation. "I guess. Anyway, what do you need me to do now?"

Moira squealed with delight and threw her arms around him. "Now that's the spirit, oh you're the best research assistant I ever had."

"I'm probably the only one left that's still alive," he muttered under his breath.

"Hmm? What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'd really like to get on with whatever you have in mind."

"Okay, well I think I'd like to deal with injuries, particularly broken limbs. So, what I need you to do is head up to the precipice overlooking the town and throw yourself off..."

Moira did not get any further as the door slammed shut.

* * *

Moriarty had a triumphant look on his face as he watched Player Name struggle into the bar with a sack of bottlecaps slung over his shoulder.

"Now was that so difficult?" said Moriarty.

"You have no idea," said Player Name. "You should be aware you have a lunatic in your midst."

"Aye, that Moira does have her moments."

"Yes, and a lot of them. Anyway, I got your money, now tell me where my father is."

"Well now, hold your fire. I gotta count it all out first, make sure it's the right amount."

"Fine," said Player Name, tossing the sack on the floor. "Take it."

Moriarty dragged the sack into the back room, and Player Name took a seat, trying hard not to inhale the alcoholic fumes emanating from the assortment of bums and low-lifes who frequented the place; a gathering of lost souls trying to forget their wretched existence in a wretched town through the medium of beer; flat, watery beer with a price tag which ensured patrons never left with a smile on their faces.

He happened to catch the glance of a man, one who didn't quite fit in with the rest; he was dressed in a smart suit and trilby hat, as opposed to the filthy rags donned by most of the regulars. He raised an arm and gestured for Player Name to join him, so with little else to do Player Name obliged.

"My my," said the stranger, leering through dark glasses. "Just when I was about to give up hope, you walk in. What a marvellous coincidence."

"It is?" asked Player Name.

"Oh yes. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Mr Burke, and I have come to Megaton looking for someone who might be interested in making a sizeable amount of cash."

"I don't know," said Player Name. "Let's be honest Mr Burke, if you were looking to make a good first impression, you didn't do yourself any favours with the secret agent attire and the hushed growling voice. You might as well have a neon sign above your head saying 'I am a shady dude.'"

"True," said Mr Burke, "but when you remember that I'm also offering you a sizeable amount of cash, I would say that becomes somewhat trivial. Wouldn't you?"

"You have a point, so why don't you tell me what is is you want?"

"Straight to the point. I like that," said Mr Burke.

"Straight to the cliché. I don't like that," replied Player Name.

"Anyway, down to business," said Mr Burke. "I'm here on behalf of a client who is involved in the real estate business. Now, this client of mine has big plans for this area, and is prepared to plough a lot of money into its development. Unfortunately, one thing stands in his way. Megaton. This insignificant eyesore, this putrescent cesspool, is nothing but a hindrance, and as such, we need it to, shall we say, disappear.

"That's where you come in. You see the bomb after which this little town is named, is still very much alive. All it needs is a little motivation. I want you to take this fusion pulse charge and rig it to the bomb."

"Wait, you want me to blow up the town?"

"Well, yes. Is there a problem?"

"I'll say. Mr Burke, you just can't go around nuking populated areas because they're somehow in the way. It's just not cool. As such, I'm afraid I'm going to have to refuse."

Mr Burke gave a well-rehearsed sigh. "Very well," he said. "I must say I'm disappointed. But if you change your mind, the offer still stands. Oh, and please don't tell anyone I asked you to blow up the town. I might get into trouble."

"Well, I can't promise," said Player Name. "But I suggest you think about what you're doing."

"I will," lied Mr Burke.

Player Name made his way back to the bar, just as Moriarty emerged from the back room.

"All right," said Moriarty, "It's all there. Now I'll tell you where your father is."

"Great," said Player Name. "By the way, do you know there's a man here who wants to blow up the town?"

"Oh you mean Mr Burke? Let me guess, he asked you to help him? He does that with everyone new who comes here."

"Right, so don't you think you should maybe do something about him?"

"Nah. He's a character, and he always pays his tab. Which is more than can be said for some of these bums."

"Okay, riiight, so where did you say my father was?" said Player Name who had a sudden urge to get out of town quickly.

"Well, after he came here, he said he was going to go and see Three Dog at Galaxy News Radio in DC to find out what was going down in the wasteland. You'll have to go all the way there if you want to find him, but I'd be happy to provide directions."

"DC? I have to go to DC?" said Player Name. "But isn't it supposed to be incredibly dangerous there?"

Moriarty placed a hand on his shoulder and grinned.

"Lad, it's hell on earth."

"Great," sighed Player Name.


	12. Amata?

The following morning, Player Name began his perilous trek to Galaxy News Radio. The thought of seeing his father again drove him on through the dusty dunes, pressing towards the ragged skyline of what had once been the capital city of the most powerful nation on Earth.

Dirt and rock soon gave way to concrete and steel as he moved towards the heart of the city. The burnt-out husks of buildings towered menacingly overhead as he walked the crumbling asphalt streets. Two hundred years ago, this place would have been abuzz with sound, the thrum of car engines, the shouting and laughter of pedestrians, the music of the big city. Now everything was deathly silent, save only for the ghostly howl of the wind coursing through the dead land. Once or twice Player Name stopped dead as he heard what sounded like gunfire, but he was determined not to let it stop him.

He checked the GPS on his Pip-Boy and found Galaxy News was near, so he began to quicken his pace. Impatiently he broke into a trot, he was so near and the city was making him nervous, as if it were watching him, setting him up for a fall.

And then they struck. A frenzy of bullets chewed up the ground beneath his feet, throwing up plumes of dust. Terrified now, he broke into a sprint, the gunfire pursuing him relentlessly. Diving for cover behind a concrete wall, he heard the bullets batter the other side, and silently prayed his makeshift defence would hold.

Suddenly the firing stopped, and the city fell silent again, save for the sound of Player Name's frantic heavy gasping.

He heard footsteps. They were coming closer, moving in to finish the job. Multiple footsteps. There was a whole gang of them, coming to kill him, and there was no escape.

One of the gunmen came around the wall, and Player Name recoiled in horror. The man was more of a monster, standing ten feet tall, his skin green and leathery. His muscles bulged as he handled a thirty kilogram minigun with ease. His ghastly face contorted into a triumphant sneer as he raised the weapon and prepared to deliver the killing volley. Player Name shut his eyes and prepared for the end.

The gun began to fire, the noise was deafening. Player Name dared not open his eyes, but he heard the continuous roar of the weapon, and he could hear the others firing too. But he felt no pain, and wondered if he was already dead.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. The monstrous man was still standing over him, but he was firing at something else, roaring obscenities in a deep, gravelly voice.

With the gunman's attention diverted, he took the opportunity to sneak a look from behind the wall. What he saw was the gunman's colleagues, each as big and ugly as him, now engaged in a firefight. Player Name could not see their enemies as they were camped within the tangled concrete and steel remains of a building across the road, but it was clear these unknown fighters were winning, as one-by-one the monsters hit the dirt.

The fight was soon over, and the victorious warriors emerged from the ruins, a group of around twenty, each clad head-to-foot in metal armour.

"You behind the wall!" called one. "You can come out now, it's safe."

The voice was sharp and unfriendly, but Player Name emerged and wandered in a daze towards his metallic saviours.

"What the hell are you doing here, civilian?" asked the same man. "You got a death wish or something?"

"Thanks for saving me," said Player Name. "Are you guys robots?"

"No, we're the Brotherhood of Steel. We're bad-ass because we carry big guns and talk in gravelly voices, and we wear power armour because it helps protect us while we're risking our lives saving clueless morons like you. Now I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"

"I'll handle this Sergeant," said a female voice, and another soldier stepped forward, similarly armoured except she wore no helmet, exposing her familiar face.

"Amata!" said Player Name. "You saved my life! But why did you dye your hair?"

"I'm not Amata, you idiot. I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons and I'm a natural blonde."

"What's a sentinel?"

"It means I'm in charge of this unit. We're the Lyon's Pride unit, and we're the most bad-ass of all the Brotherhood of Steel."

"I'm sure you are," said Player Name, "but may I ask why you don't wear a helmet? Seems kind of dangerous."

"Because I'm so pretty of course! As one of the main characters, it's important that I look good, and with a helmet you just aren't going to achieve that."

"Quite," said Player Name. "But you do look a lot like a friend of mine. Anyway can any of you well-armoured chaps point me in the direction of Galaxy News Radio?"

"Actually, we were just on our way there now," said Lyons. "The station doubles as a Brotherhood fortress. You can tag along, but please try to stay out of trouble."

"Why would you hole up in a radio studio?"

"It's an agreement that provides mutual benefits. Three Dog provides us with a safe haven in this hellhole, and we stop him from getting his head blown off by Super Mutants. You know, those big guys who tried to kill you?"

"Is that what they were? Where on earth did they come from?"

"We don't know. All we know is they're big, ugly homicidal maniacs who'd happily rip your head off at a moment's notice. And they've pretty much overrun all of downtown DC, making it off-limits to civilians."

"Now wait a minute," said Player Name. "Just what gives you people the right to go around preaching what is and isn't off limits?"

"For a start, our impressive array of technologically-advanced weaponry, our intimidating-looking power armour, and our general all-round bad-assed-ness. Why, do you have a problem with that?"

"No no," said Player Name. "Just curious, that's all. Anyway, onward to Galaxy News."


	13. Three Dog

Player Name was certain he was in the wrong place. The studio was swarming with power-armoured grunts and the entire perimeter of the building was lined with defensive fortifications. It was not quite how he had pictured Galaxy News Radio.

Getting was equally burdensome. The Brotherhood were clearly unhappy about having a vault-suited vagabond in their midst, and any attempt at communication was usually met with a surly mumble or an order to "move along."

Nevertheless, he persisted, and was rewarded when a captain actually bothered to point him in the right direction. Evading the inhuman glares of the helmeted warriors, he finally found his way to a door marked Studio One. He knocked.

"Enter, if you dare," said a male voice. Player Name rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Well, well," said an African-American man seated in a sprawling office. "I can't say I haven't been expecting you. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Three Dog, master of ceremonies and the voice of reason in this god-forsaken hell-hole.

"And I know who you are. You're the kid from Vault 101 who's looking for his daddy, am I right? Don't answer, for Three Dog knows all."

"You bastard," said Player Name. "I've got a bone to pick with you!"

"How so?"

"I was listening to you on my Pip-Boy on the way over here, and I heard all those things you were saying about me."

"Like what?"

"For a start, you said I was a hitman who goes around killing prominent members of wasteland society for booze."

"Well, it was a pretty mean thing to do, you gotta admit."

"But it's a lie! Oh, and you also said I killed a bunch of ghouls because they were annoying the residents of a nearby hotel. I don't even know what a ghoul is for god's sake! Hmm, what else? Oh yes, you said I sold a bunch of orphans into slavery and shaved their puppies! You even said I sold drugs to kittens! You called me the Reaver of the Wastes!"

"Yeah, you've done a lot of bad things."

"No I haven't. It's all lies."

"Three Dog knows all."

"No you don't you slanderous bastard. And stop referring to yourself in the third person, it's really annoying."

"Okay, so if you didn't do it, who did?"

"I don't know. Who told you it was me anyway?"

"My sources are confidential."

"Tell me, or I swear I'll kill you."

"How will you find your dad then?"

"I hate you."

Three Dog rose to his feet and clapped his hands. "Now let's stop all the hating," he said. "All this bad karma isn't getting us anywhere. Come on dude, where's the love at?"

"Look," said Player Name. "I just want to see my father, who is Liam Neeson. Is he here?"

"No, your dad, who is Liam Neeson, ain't here any more. But he was here, and I know where he went."

"Damn. Where did he go?"

"Now hold on there partner. I could tell you, but you're going to have to do something for me in return."

"What, just for you to tell me where my father went?"

"Yes."

"Oh come on. I went through this exact same bullshit with a guy named Moriarty. I have to say, he's probably the guy I hate most in the world, although recently someone's been running him close."

"Well the offer stands. Do you want to help me or not?"

"Fine. What do you need me to do?"

"That's the spirit. I knew you were the kind of guy who could get things done as soon as I laid eyes on you."

"Don't patronise me."

"Anyway, as you know, I run Galaxy News Radio. That's my way of contributing to the good fight."

"The what?"

"You know. The good fight. See the wasteland is a god-forsaken hellhole, filled with all kinds of horrors who just wanna cause as much misery as possible. You got the super mutants who'll pull your arms and legs off for fun, the raiders who'll shoot you in the balls just because you're there, and the Talon Company Mercs who'll kill anyone for the right price. It's fair to say this isn't a happy place to be if you're a regular guy who just wants to live in peace.

"That's where fighting the good fight comes in. You got the Brotherhood of Steel, who are out there trying to stop the muties from overrunning the whole wasteland, and others too; those who have the guts to pick up a weapon and fight back against the bad guys. Now yours truly ain't much of a fighter, so I do the next best thing. I use my voice to let the people know what's going down via Galaxy News. That's my contribution to the good fight, and it's time for you to make yours."

"So what do you need me to do?"

"Well, as the tallest building left standing in DC, I've been using the Washington monument to spread my message to the masses. Unfortunately, a super mutant decided it would be great fun to shoot at the big shiny thing at the top of the building. So now anyone outside the DC zone can't hear my message, all they get is static.

"I need you to go to the Museum of Technology and get me a replacement dish for the transmitter. You'll find one on the lunar lander displayed there. Get it, repair the transmitter and I'll tell you where your dad went."

"Isn't that area horrendously dangerous?" asked Player Name.

"I won't lie to you. Chances are, you won't make it back here. But you're going to have to do it if you want me to tell you where your dad is."

"I just want you to know that Moriarty is no longer my least-favourite person," said Player Name, trying hard to keep his rage under control. "Can't I just clean your windows or something?"

"No. You must get to the museum, probably encountering heavy fire as you do so, break in, fight your way through hordes of super mutants, get the dish, go to the Washington monument, repair the transmitter and only then will I tell you where your dad went. Besides, I already have someone to clean my windows."

"Are you serious?"

"What's your answer, yes or no?"

"All right, I'll do it, but I can't say I'm happy about this," said Player Name, and trudged off dejectedly to the Museum of Technology.

Hee, hee, I know how to pick 'em," said Three Dog.

Just then, the window cleaner poked his head in through the door.

"Three Dog," he said. "I've run out of Windolene. You got any more?"

"I do, but if you want it, you're going to have to contribute to the good fight."

"God Three Dog, you're such a dick sometimes."


	14. Ghoul

Player Name was lost. The GPS was of little help as it didn't take into account the many roads blocked by rubble, and he was constantly having to change direction to avoid the many super mutant outposts which infested the area.

As he came to the same place for the third time, Player Name gave a huff of resignation and sat down to light a cigarette. He had taken up smoking following the jet incident outside Megaton, and while it wasn't the healthiest thing to do, at least he no longer suffered from video-game character-induced hallucinations.

He blew a plume, and watched it fade into the drab greyness of the ruined city. He wished he were back in the vault, with his father, away from this horrendous place. If this was civilisation then he didn't want any part of it.

He saw movement, and immediately sprang to his feet. A woman, carrying a rifle, was sauntering towards him. "Don't panic," she said. "I'm not going to kill you, probably."

Her voice was thin and raspy, and she looked horrific. She literally looked like a walking corpse; her skin was rotting, giving her a zombie-like appearance.

"Ouch, that looks painful," said Player Name. "I've got some eczema cream if that'll help."

"I haven't got eczema," she said irritably. "You never seen a ghoul before?"

"No," said Player Name. "So you're a ghoul?"

"No," said the woman. "I just asked because I was curious. Of course I'm a ghoul. And I can see from your suit that you're fresh out a vault. Take my advise, wise up quickly before someone takes advantage. And mark my words, someone will take advantage."

"So where do ghouls come from?"

"We come from the depths of hell, and we're here to eat the brains of all smoothskins like you. In case you haven't wised up yet, that was a joke. When the bombs fell, not all of us had the luxury of finding shelter in a vault. So after the bombs fell, we took the full brunt of the fallout. Not all of us had the good fortune to die though, some of us survived and were forced to live on as the radiation slowly rotted our bodies. We became the living dead."

"Wow, that sucks," said Player Name.

"Yes it does."

"So wait, are you telling me you were alive when the bombs fell?"

"No, although there are some who were. You see, ghoulification has the side-effect of extending our life-span, some of us are nearly two hundred years old. Of course, by that time the radiation has rotted their brains to the point where they're no longer capable of reason. They've gone feral, if you like. Watch out for them, they'll likely try to kill you on sight.

"As for me, I was once like you, pretty and vain. The radiation still persists, and slowly turns us into monsters, although it only seems to affect some people. Pray it never happens to you. "

"Yikes."

"My thoughts exactly. So what brings you to this part of town? Are you having suicidal thoughts?"

"No, I'm lost."

"I see."

"Can you help me?"

"Probably not. I haven't left Underworld for many, many years now."

"Underworld?"

"Yes, Underworld. It's a city of ghouls in the old Museum of History. She pointed to a majestic- looking ruin. "In there. By the way, the name's Willow. I'm a sentry. I keep watch for hostiles."

"Pleased to meet you Willow," said Player Name, and offered Willow his hand. She shook it, and Player Name took a moment to discreetly wipe flakes of dead skin and pus from his hand before continuing.

"So, can I get a drink there?"

"I would imagine you can."


	15. The Ninth Circle

Player Name felt like a stranger in a foreign land. In fact he felt like an alien on another planet. The ghouls had completely taken over the museum and turned it into a busy community. Exhibition rooms had become apartments, mantelpieces had become shop counters, and the lobby had become the hustling, bustling centre of Underworld town.

And it seemed as though Underworld town was not pleased to see him. Everyone he passed turned their head, and once or twice he heard someone grumble something like "damn smoothskin" or similar. Nevertheless, he succeeded in finding a room for the night, although it hadn't been cheap.

"We don't get many visitors," was the proprietor's unconvincing excuse.

Having secured shelter for the night, Player Name decided to take a wander towards the nearest bar and spend his last few caps. The Ninth Circle was the most popular in town, but it also had a bad reputation for trouble, even by the standards of the wasteland. Nevertheless, Player Name opted to brave the risk in pursuit of alcoholic respite.

He grabbed a stool at the bar, trying to ignore the mass fist-fight which had broken out behind him. As he waved to the barman for attention he heard the crash of a body being thrown through a table, and felt that this might not have been such a good idea after all. However, amidst the chaos, a great burly hulk of a bouncer stepped in, and bodies began to fly in all directions as the fight was quickly brought to a halt. The big ghoul surveyed his handiwork, and began dragging the brawlers out two at a time in his chunky arms.

Having disposed of the trouble, the bouncer took up position by the door, his skull-face twisted into an imposing frown.

"Hey," said Player Name to the ghoul-bouncer. "Nice work."

"Shut the hell up," replied the bouncer, and since he was almost twice the size of Player Name, his request was granted.

"Don't mind him," said the barman. "He's just here to keep the peace."

"Doesn't need to be such an asshole though," said Player Name.

"Well, in his defence, you'd be pretty angry at the world too if you were a guy named Sharon."

"His name is Sharon?"

"Yes. And I own his contract. As long as I do, he is completely subservient to me. So don't cause any trouble and we won't have a problem, okay?"

"Of course," said Player Name.

"I'm Azrukhal, by the way," said the barman. "I'm the owner and proprietor of the Ninth Circle, and I'm here to help you forget all your problems via the medium of alcohol.. And by the look on your face, you're someone who has a lot of problems."

"That would be an accurate assumption," said Player Name, and proceeded to tell Azrukhal about his deal with Three Dog.

"I see," said Azrukhal, once Player Name had finished his story. "It sounds like you'll need some serious backup in order to get the job done. Someone, like Sharon perhaps?"

"Yes," said Player Name. "Too bad I don't have access to anybody like Sharon. I don't suppose you'd be willing to sell me Sharon's contract, by any chance?"

"No," replied Azrukhal firmly.

"Thought not."

The impact of what lay ahead began to gnaw at Player Name, and he fished out a dog-eared photograph of his father.

_Oh dad, _he thought, staring wistfully at the picture. _Will I ever see you again?_

"Who's the guy in the photo?" asked Azrukhal.

"Him? Oh, that's just a photo of my dad, who is Liam Neeson."

"What? That photo is of your dad who is Liam Neeson?"

"Yes, this photo is of my dad, who is...Yes. Just yes."

Azrukhal thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "You know," he said. "I know I said Sharon's contract wasn't for sale, but I might be persuaded to sell for the right price, say, for a photograph of Liam Neeson?"

"I don't know, this is the only memento I have of my father. You're asking a lot."

"Then it looks as though the super mutants at the Museum of Technology are going to have fun tearing you a new ass."

"All right," said Player Name, "you have a deal," and reluctantly handed over the photo.

"Excellent," said Azrukhal. "Why don't you tell Sharon the good news?"

So Player Name approached the big ghoul, who looked at him with the icy-cold eyes of a merciless killer.

"Hi Sharon!" said Player Name cheerfully.

"Stop talking at me," replied Sharon.

"But I've got some good news. I bought out your contract. You work for me now."

"Is that a fact? Please excuse me for a moment."

Sharon clomped over to the bar where Azrukhal was gleefully examining his newly-acquired photograph of Liam Neeson.

"Azrukhal," said Sharon.

"Yes Sharon?"

"I understand that I am no longer in your service?"

"That's correct. The smoothskin just bought out your contract."

"I see. That is good to hear." Without another word, Sharon unholstered a big shotgun and opened up on the hapless bar-owner. After checking Azrukhal was dead, he walked back over to Player Name.

"Okay," he said, "let's go."

"What the hell man! You just murdered him!"

"Azrukhal was an evil bastard. I did the world a service by getting rid of him. The things he made me do."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What kind of things. Like killing children?"

"No no, nothing like that."

"Was it of a sexual nature?"

"No."

"Well, what then?"

"It was more what he did to me."

"You can tell me. It might make you feel better."

"He...no, I can't."

"Tell me. Please."

"He...he was the one who gave me the name Sharon."

"What? That's it?"

"I've hated him ever since."

"I see. I'm officially terrified now"

"Anyway, enough talk. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Yes," said Player Name. "Remind me to put an unbreakable lifetime clause in your contract."


	16. Ambush

The next day, Player Name and Sharon made ready for their trip to the Museum of Technology. Despite his imposing nature and the large gun he carried with him, Sharon generally did what Player Name told him to do, although he was seldom happy about it.

"All done," said Sharon, after he had finished cling-wrapping the sandwiches in Player Name's packed lunch. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do? Perhaps you need some help wiping your ass?"

"Now now, there's no need to be like that," said Player Name cheerfully as he packed his new pair of spare socks into his pack. "You know the terms and conditions of that contract, and besides, with you around, those nasty super mutants won't dare attack us."

Sharon frowned in as much as it was possible for someone whose face had pretty much rotted away to nothing. "May I ask you a personal question...sir?"

"Of course, brave Sharon. Ask away champ."

"Were you dropped on your head as a child? Only I get the impression you're not fully aware of the magnitude of what lies ahead."

"Oh Sharon, of course I do! But I have full confidence in you. I know you'll keep us safe. You can do it."

Player Name gave Sharon a reassuring pat on the back. Sharon rolled his eyes and popped a round of slugs in his shotgun, before strapping on an ammo belt. He was ready for action.

"Say, you sure have a lot of ammo there, Sharon," said Player Name nervously. Sharon scowled grimly, and almost felt a rare surge of pity for his new employer.

"Like I said," growled Sharon, "I'm not sure you're aware of what lies ahead."

The pair left underworld late that morning. Sharon took the lead, carefully surveying the area, while Player Name trotted close behind, struggling at times to keep up with the purposeful stride of the big ghoul.

"Lot of cover around these parts," said Sharon. "Perfect place for an ambush. Keep close, and watch your step."

"Are there many mutants around these parts?" asked Player Name, watching for movement from within the ruined remnants of the streets. The area brought back bad memories of the earlier ambush, and it didn't look as though there were any of the Brotherhood around to help him this time.

"They're everywhere. It's a question of if, not when, we see them," said Sharon nonchalantly. "And when they come to party you'd better be ready to run for cover."

"Do you think we'll be able to handle them?"

"You mean will I be able to handle them?"

"I suppose..."

"In all honesty, I don't know. By the way, have you made a will?"

"No. I don't have much to my name."

"That's good. It means there's less you'll leave behind if you die horribly. Which you probably will."

"Can we please change the subject?"

"Just trying to make you aware of the situation, that's all."

Player Name sucked his teeth. The atmosphere was in dire need of being lightened up, and he frantically tried to think of a subject that might be of interest a rock-hard mercenary warrior.

"So, you got a girlfriend?"

"Quiet!" snapped Sharon. "Muties at twelve o'clock."

Player Name resisted the urge to cling onto the ghoul. "Do you think they've seen us?"

A volley of machine-gun fire sent them running for cover. They dived into a crater just as a mortar struck the ground in their wake.

"Yes," replied Sharon. He unshouldered his weapon and returned fire. Player Name lay flat on the ground and waited for the end as more mutants joined the fray, weapons blazing.

"Oh god oh god oh god," wailed Player Name. "We're gonna die, I just know it."

"Shut up," said Sharon. "You're spoiling my concentration."

There were now at least twenty mutants levied against them, and the noise of battle was now quite unbearable. Something landed by Sharon's feet in the crater.

"Grenade!" he roared. "Take cover." He quickly grabbed it and tossed it back. The resulting explosion was followed by a terrible roar of pain.

"Graagh," roared a mutant. "Stuupid huumans kill my best friend!"

"I thought I was your best friend?" said another.

"Raagh. We all look the same. Difficult to tell sometimes. But stuupid huumans go squish now."

"We're totally outgunned," said Sharon. "There's just too many of them. We need to make a retreat. On three, we make a run for it. One...two...three. Go go go!"

And they scampered out the crater and ran as fast as they could. Bullets whizzed by all around their feet as the big mutants continued to fire, but they did not give chase. Once the pair were out of range, the mutants stop firing.

"Stuupid huumans get away," said one, and they immediately all burst out laughing.

"Oh Fortesque,"said another, "you do crack me up with your moron talk."

"Yes, rather," said Fortesque. "I do believe that the human chappies have a somewhat stereotypical view of us as big dumb grunts. They don't realise that we're actually making a fool of them, because, quite simply, we're the smart ones. We're supposed to be the next step in evolution after all."

"Hear hear!"

"As for them, well they're just..."

"No, please don't Fortesque, you'll set me off again."

"...stuupid huumans."

They collapsed into fits of laughter again.

"Oh Fortesque. You really are a character."

And so, the mutants all headed home for Derbyshire scones, a good end to a spiffing day.


	17. The Handyman

Having evaded the super mutant ambush, the pair recommenced their trek to the museum. Sharon scoured the buildings carefully, ever-ready to draw, while Player Name kept close to the point that he was almost hiding behind his monstrous protector.

"If you're going to brush up against my ass, you might at least make yourself useful and keep a watch on our six," said Sharon grumpily. "I'm not a one-man army you know."

They reached the museum, and were horrified by what they found.

"My god!" said Player Name. "The super mutants. What have they done to the place?"

"Judging by their use of human corpses as mannequins it appears that they are currently in the process of transforming the museum into a boutique," said Sharon.

"The fiends!" said Player Name, with melodramatic flair, "those mutants will surely pay for this!"

"Right," said Sharon, "so are we gonna go in?"

"What, in there? In the museum?"

"Uhh, yeah."

"Do you think there are many mutants in there?"

"Oh yes, absolutely."

"Umm..."

Sharon placed a reassuring arm on Player Name's shoulder. "It's okay," he said. "I know you're a pussy. You don't have to do this."

Player Names face brightened. "Really?"

Sharon sighed. "Look, I'll go in and get the dish. You just stay out here and keep watch. If you see anything, scream like a girl. You've already proven to be good at that."

"Gotcha," said Player Name, giving a thumbs up.

"Okay," said Sharon, readying his gun, "wish me luck." And before Player Name could wish him luck, he burst through the double doors. Seconds later, there was an almighty crash, followed by the muffled roar of a dozen super mutants, and finally the roar of gunfire.

Player Name looked around and kept watch, trying to ignore the fracas inside. The guns continued to blaze, and he was pretty sure he heard explosions.

"No!" came a scream from inside. "He'll destroy the boudoir!"

Player Name checked his watch as the fight entered its twentieth minute without any sign of letting up. The quite suddenly, Sharon smashed through the front door, triumphantly holding the dish in hand.

"Sharon! You got it, you big wonderful person you."

"Enough talk," said Sharon, "let's haul ass to the Washington Monument."

* * *

They came to the monument, and found that the whole area had been transformed into a Brotherhood of Steel outpost. Defences had been erected right around the perimeter of the monument, patrolled by a dozen power-armoured guards.

"Halt!" said one. "What is you business here civilian?"

"Hi!" said Player Name cheerfully. "We're here to fix the radio transmitter."

"You are are you?" The grunt clearly wasn't buying it.

"Show him the replacement dish, Sharon."

"Of course," said Sharon. "Would you like me to pose in a swimsuit while I'm at it?"

"Where did you get that?" asked the grunt.

"We pulled it off the lunar lander in the Museum of Technology."

"So, you did in fact vandalise an important part of American history in order to acquire it?"

"Err...is that a problem?"

"Couldn't care less, to be honest. Anyway, you're free to take the elevator to the top of the monument. I'll buzz you in through the gate."

It was a long trip to the top, and the higher they went, the queasier Player Name felt.

"I don't like heights," he said, as the elevator slammed to a halt.

"Why does that not surprise me?" said Sharon, stepping off.

The transmitter was there, a horrendously complicated-looking mingle of cables and flashing lights. The damaged dish was there too, a bullethole had pierced it dead centre. It hung out a window, within reach, but as Player Name reached out to retrieve it, he happened to glance downward, and his legs turned to jelly.

"Umm, Sharon, could you give me a hand?"

"Oh, go and sit down. I can do this," said the ghoul. "Just pass me that toolbox over there and I'll get this over and done with."

So Player Name sat down and watched as his colleague rustled about with the machinery, a quick tweak here, a minor adjustment there, until he finally got the dish off.

"Okay," said Sharon, "now hand me the replacement dish."

He took the dish and fitted it in a matter of minutes. Clearly he was one who was as comfortable with electronics as he was with firearms. He surveyed his handiwork just as a pigeon happened to land on the dish.

"Goddamn rats with wings," muttered Sharon, and lunged out the window to shoo the bird away. Unfortunately, as the creature flew off, the momentum of the big ghoul forced the rest of him over the sill, and he disappeared from view.

"Oh crap!" said Player Name, rushing to the window. Nervously, he looked down to see Sharon's lifeless body, flanked by two curious Brotherhood soldiers.

"Hello down there!" called Player Name. "My friend appears to have fallen out the window. Is he all right?"

"Well," called a soldier. "he appears to have acquired a head injury."

"Is it serious?"

"If you consider having your brains splattered across the sidewalk as being a serious head injury then I would say yes."

"Ah, shoot." This was all Player Name needed. Now that his protector was dead, he faced the prospect of getting back to Galaxy News Radio while evading all manner of horrors on his lonesome. He didn't fancy his chances.

Nevertheless, he consoled himself with the thought of seeing his father again as he took the elevator to the bottom. As he stepped off, he gazed sadly as the soldiers carried off Sharon in a bodybag and began the long, perilous trip back to the studio.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the monument, two mutants, Percy and Brocklebank were taking a walk, making sure to avoid the Brotherhood patrols that passed close by.

"Hey, look!" said Percy, as he glanced up at the top of the monument. "That big shiny thing's back!"

"Ha!" scoffed Brocklebank as he cocked his rifle. "We'll see about that!"


	18. Mr President

Thankfully, the journey back was free from incident, and Player Name made it back to Three Dog relatively unscathed save for the loss of his new friend. Three Dog was there, a big grin etched across his face. It was still a face Player Name ached to punch, but the presence of Brotherhood troops talked him out of the notion.

"I knew you could do it," said Three Dog as though he'd only asked Player Name to go out for cigarettes. "Even if you do torture animals and sleep with super mutants.

"Oh, stop that!" snapped Player Name. "You know full well I haven't done any of that stuff. Frankly, it's gone beyond a joke. I demand to know who's been telling you these things about me."

Three Dog tapped his nose. "Now you know I can't do that kid. As I said, my sources are completely confidential. What kind of man would betray somebody's trust like that?"

What kind of man would send someone into certain death just to find out where their dad was? thought Player Name, although he said nothing.

"Well, since I've proven this person to be a liar, the least you could do is take any future accusations they make against me with a pinch of salt."

Three Dog looked thoughtful. "All right kid," he said. "It's the least I can do after you helped me out like that."

"Ah, about that," said Player Name, "maybe now you'd like to fulfil your end of the bargain and tell me where my father is?"

"It would be my pleasure kid," said Three Dog. "Your father mentioned he was working on some kind of top secret project. He wouldn't say any more than that except that he was on his way to a vault far out west."

"I see," said Player Name. "How far out west are we talking?"

"All he knew was that the vault was near Evergreen Mills, and that it was well-hidden. Supposedly it's meant to be disguised as a garage or something. I should warn you though, the way there is likely to be fraught with danger."

"Meh, to be honest I've kind of grown used to that prospect by now. I've realised now that life sucks and I've just decided to go with the flow."

"Well I can't say I don't ademire your maturity," said Three Dog.

Player Name punched up the GPS on his Pip Boy. "Wow, Evergreen Mills is quite a distance," he said. "How long ago did dad set out from here?"

"Well, I could tell you," said Three Dog, "but I'm still looking for further contributions towards fighting the Good Fight..."

"Never mind," said Player Name. "I'll just go to Evergreen Mills now."

* * *

Player Name set out westward in search of his father, who was Liam Neeson in case you've forgotten. The journey took him beyond the city limits and back into the endless wastes. He switched on the radio on his Pip Boy and turned the frequency to Galaxy News. Oddly though, the reception was still pretty bad, even though it was supposed to transmit flawlessly throughout the whole wasteland.

"Huh, looks like the new dish made no difference whatsoever," he thought, and his hatred towards Three Dog flourished.

After a session of fruitless fine-tuning, he gave up and tried to find another channel worth listening to which might help alleviate the loneliness of the journey. Unfortunately, most active channels were either test transmissions, Morse code, or more frequently, an assortment of static noises. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, he felt himself yearning for the inoffensive muzak of Vault 101's own radio channel. Player Name was on the brink of giving up, when he unexpectedly stumbled across a male voice, talking in clear, eloquent tones.

"My fellow Americans," said the voice. "This is your president, John Henry Eden, speaking to you live on Enclave Radio. Today, I'd like to talk to you about the crisis that we all face today, namely the fact that everything sucks. Yes, thanks to all those nuclear bombs, followed by the emergence of ravenous mutants, raider gangs and general all-round lawlessness, it's safe to say the once-great nation of the United States of America is not a fuzzy place to be.

"Our great cities lie in ruins, and our spectacular natural assets have been reduced to dust. As if that were not bad enough, everything, from the air we breathe to the food we eat has been contaminated with radiation. People struggle just to survive another day, and they probably end up doing really gross things like drinking their own pee or something. Is that really the way you think the citizens of the most powerful country on the planet should be living, like beggars and vagrants slumming it in filthy shacks? I don't.

"So fear not! for the Enclave is here to help all you repulsive SOBs get back on your feet, which are probably riddled with disease. We aim to bring civilisation back to this once great country, and provide all of you worthless bastards with minimum wage jobs, even though your laziness is the main thing keeping us all down. Know that we, your saviours, will soon be amongst you, all that we ask is that you keep faith, and perhaps wash a little more often. I can smell you all from here.

"This is your president, John Henry Eden, signing off. God bless America. And God help you. Kisses."

"Well," thought Player Name, "he sounds like a reasonable fellow." He switched off the Pip Boy and continued onward towards Evergreen Mills, oblivious to the sniper who had his head square in the centre of his cross-sights


	19. Raider: Round Two

Ricky the raider peered down the scope of his high-powered rifle, and took careful aim from the elevation overlooking the passage west. The victim, Player Name, seemed completely oblivious to the terrible danger he was in, and the gleeful raider couldn't help but savour the moment.

"Got you now, you goddamn, motherfucking, hoe-ass, bitch-licker," he mouthed eloquently. "I'll teach you to make me make Freudian slips you bastard."

He steadied himself, and began to squeeze the trigger.

"Die!" he screamed.

Then there was an almighty bang! and the wasteland went silent once more.

What the hell was that noise? thought Player Name, now looking up towards the elevation. He noticed that there were two people up there, and one of them seemed to be writhing around in pain.

Ricky grimaced from the sharp pain of the bullet wound. "My ass!" he groaned to the man who had sneaked up behind him, "you shot me in the ass! What kind of fucked-up individual does that?"

"The type of fucked-up individual who is a master in the deliverance of maximum pwnage," replied Fluffyman, as he triumphantly blew the smoke from his pistol. "As usual I have arrived just in time to prevent the cruel murder of an innocent."

"You don't understand," said Ricky. "That guy's a real douche. He said mean things to me!"

"I see," said Fluffyman, "and does that really warrant his cold-blooded execution?"

"It would certainly make me feel a hell of a lot better! Isn't there anyone in life you really hate?"

A vision of Moira Brown briefly flickered through Fluffyman's mind, but he said nothing of it.

"My personal beliefs are not important," he said, "what matters is my status as supreme bad-ass of the Capital Wasteland."

"Who the hell are you?" asked Ricky.

"They know me only as The Mysterious Stranger, therefore that is how you too shall remember me, for the rest of your life."

"Fluffyman!" called Player Name as he scaled the elevation. "Hi! It's me, Player Name. Remember me?"

"Yes," said Fluffyman through gritted teeth. "I remember you. And your bastard employer."

"Wait," said Ricky, "you're name's Fluffyman?"

"Shut up," said Fluffyman.

"What kind of a dumb name is that?"

"I would ask you to bear in mind that my gun is still loaded," said Fluffyman sharply. "This conversation is over."

Player Name reacted with surprise as he recognised the hapless raider sprawled across the dirt in clear discomfort.

"You again?" he said.

"Yes," sneered Ricky, "me again. What of it, you punk-ass cock-sucking son of a bitch?"

"There you go with the needless profanity again. Haven't you learned anything from our last encounter?"

Ricky gave a choking laugh. "How amusing," he said, "the jet junkie wants to give me more lessons on morality."

"Just trying to help a fellow human being," said Player Name. "I ask only because I care."

"Yeah, right," said Ricky. "I'll tell you what I've learned since our last encounter. I've learned that I hate your guts and I want you dead. How's that for learning?"

"Wow, that really hurts," said Player Name. "All this hostility and I don't even know your name."

"I ain't telling you my goddamn n..."

"His name is Ricky," interrupted Fluffyman. "Ricky the raider."

"Shut up Fluffyman," replied Ricky.

A though crossed Player Name's mind. "Ricky, are you the one who's been spreading all these malicious rumours about me on the radio?"

"Fuck you," replied Ricky. "Pussies spread rumours. The only thing I want to spread are your guts all over the ground."

Player Name shook his head sadly. "I really wish the best for you Richard, and hope that one day you find happiness in life. By the way, what happened to your ass?"

"It was on the receiving end of my awesomeness," said Fluffyman. "I gave it to him good."

"Right," said Player Name, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" asked Fluffyman. "It's incredibly dangerous. The area is crawling with raiders. And Ricky."

"Hey!" said Ricky. "I'm a raider too you know!"

"Sure you are," said Fluffyman.

"Well," said Player Name, "in answer to your question, I'm on the hunt for a hidden vault, which I believe is somewhere around this area."

"Well, there's no vaults around here," said Fluffyman. "The only building around here is that old, deserted garage over there."

"Really?" said Player Name, who suddenly believed his luck might finally be about to change.

* * *

The No Vault Here Go Away Garage, as it was called, was totally deserted on the inside. The ramshackle building itself was more or less intact, but looters had ensured that nothing of any use remained. As with most intact buildings, the windows were completely shattered, and the dust of the wastes had begun to pile up thick.

Well, thought Player Name. This is a bit of a predicament. There's absolutely no sign of any vault here, and this garage is completely empty except for this large, conspicuous button on the wall.

He was just about to leave when he thought he might as well push the button just to give him a sense of achievement from exploring the building, so he pushed it, and was quite surprised when a secret passage opened up in the floor. He looked down the newly-revealed flight of stairs which led through a dank corridor, and after hesitating, decided to take a look. He followed the stairs down, and was taken on a winding route through a long passage. There were cobwebs on the walls, and a fusty smell hung in the air. The place seemed totally deserted, until he noticed the faint outline of footprints in the dust-caked floor. Someone had been down here fairly recently, although he prayed it was not a raider or a mutant.

The passage, and the footprints, rounded another corner, and Player Name was struck dumb. Right in front of him was the familiar sight of a great circular steel door. The dust had dimmed its surface somewhat, but there could be no doubt now. He had found the vault, and was hopefully one step closer to finding his father.


	20. Robot

Player Name rapped his knuckles against the great door and waited for an answer. Owing to the fact the door was solid steel five feet thick he found himself waiting for quite a while. Undaunted, he tried knocking again. He whistled while pacing up and down as he waited, but still no one came to the door.

"Hello?" he called, "is anyone there?"

No answer.

He cursed silently, yet refused to be put off. He had come this far, and he was determined it would not be in vain. Looking around, his eye caught the external control panel next to the door, and after much tinkering managed to access the intercom.

"Hello?" he called, and waited for a response.

"What time do you call this?" said a voice on the other side. "This had better not be you goddamn kids again."

"Huh?"

"Relax, I'm just pulling your leg. Humour is a excellent medium of releasing tension during a crisis."

I really hope for your sake you're a robot, thought Player Name.

"Permit me to introduce myself," continued the voice, which was friendly, and also quite relaxing to listen to. "I am Robobrain 623654 and I am responsible for greeting new residents to Vault 112. So allow me to greet you. Greetings."

"Right," said Player Name, "so can I come in?"

"Of course you can, you silly billy. Just give me a minute while I open the door."

A minute later there was a deafening howl as a klaxon began to blare and harsh orange warning lights blazed. Seconds later the great door heaved open.

"Yikes," said Player Name.

Despite the pleasant, pacifying nature of the voice's nature, the appearance of the speaker was quite another thing. The robot's clumsy-looking body consisted of a bulky torso atop a pair of treads. Its flexible arms ended in harsh metal pincers, and most alarmingly, its head consisted of what appeared to be a human brain encased in glass.

"Hello," said Robobrain 623654. "Now that we have met in person, may I say that we are absolutely thrilled to have you with us in our humble vault. We're so pleased you could make it."

"Right," said Player Name, instinctively backing off whenever the robot drew closer.

"You seem nervous," said Robobrain. "You need not be. There is nothing to fear, we mean nothing but the best for you."

"I appreciate your sentiment," said Player Name, "but when it comes from someone who looks like a brain skewered onto a mangled battle tank, it's a little difficult to take seriously."

"I understand completely," said Robobrain, "I know how importantly you humans value the aesthetic quality of others. I apologise profoundly if you find my appearance offensive."

"Wow, now I feel kind of bad."

"Oh, please don't sir, we want your stay here to be as pleasant and untroubled as possible."

"Ah, well I won't be sticking around for long. I just stopped by to find my father..."

"...who is Liam Neeson?"

"Wh – yes, how did you know that?"

"Your DNA pattern indicates a close genetic relationship with one of our current residents who utilises that name."

Player Name's heart missed a beat. "My god, you mean he's here?"

"Why yes sir. He is currently in the tranquillity lounge."

"I demand you take me to him now!"

"But of course sir. It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Player Name had a strong sense of deja vu as the bizarre robot led him deep into the bowels of the vault. He was reminded of his home, his childhood, and the fun, and not so fun times, he had enjoyed with his friends and his father...

He was about to see his father again. The butterflies in his stomach had whipped themselves up into a frenzy. What would he say to him? What would he ask? Would his father be angry to see him? He quelled his thoughts and focused on following Robobrain, or at least the Robobrain he was meant to be following as there were a multitude of identical machines in the vault, tirelessly tending to whatever it was they were doing. What was even more curious was that he did not see a single human being.

"Where is everybody?" asked Player Name.

"In the tranquillity lounge," replied Robobrain.

"The where?"

"The tranquility lounge. It's just through this door."

The door opened, and the sight was spectacular. Row upon row of what could only be described as black shiny pods in the massive hall.

"What are all these things?" asked Player Name.

"These are tranquillity loungers, sir."

"What do you use them for?" he asked, walking over to inspect a pod more closely. He recoiled in shock, not when he realised that it was transparent, but when he saw the body sitting upright inside.

"There's a dead body in here!" said Player Name. "There's bodies in them all!"

"Don't be silly sir. They're not dead, they're simply in simulation."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Simple, sir. Every resident is logged into a vault-wide simulation programme, so that their minds can be suitably entertained down here in the confines of the vault."

"I see," said Player Name, as he scoured the unsettling display of shiny coffins, "and how long will you keep them this way?"

"Until Vault-Tec gives the all-clear to return to the surface."

"The company who built the vaults? But they haven't existed for nearly two hundred years!"

"Well, I can't take your word for that, sir," said Robobrain. "I'll have to clarify that with Vault-Tec."

"You're insane!" said Player Name. "You're going to keep them here forever."

As he moved along the loungers, his eye was caught by the bearded man. To an outsider he was just another whose vacant expression indicated a soul lost to the digital abyss. But to Player Name there could be no doubt about it.

"Dad!" cried Player Name. "Wake up!"

"You seem stressed," said Robobrain. "I think it's time for you to take a seat."

"No, you have to open this pod! God damn you, open this pod now!"

"We can't do that until we get clearance from Vault-Tec, you silly sausage, so for now I'm going to have to ask you to take a seat sir," said Robobrain, grabbing Player Name's arm in its pincer.

"Take a seat?" asked Player Name, and it was then he saw one of the pods open up. It was empty.

"Oh no!" cried Player Name. He struggled, but it was in vain. "No! Let me go! Let me go! Dad, help me! Somebody help me!"

"Please don't be afraid, sir," said Robobrain as it forced Player Name into the chair. Player Name continued to struggle, even as he was strapped in, and as the pod shut again, he pounded ferociously against the fibreglass casing, but failed to make even a dent.

"God damn you!" he yelled. "God damn you, you walking junk-pile! Let me out of here now!"

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, and all struggling ceased. The next thing he saw was a series of words.

"Loading simulation Tranquillity Scrolls. Please stand by."


	21. Tranquillity Scrolls

The words dissipated as the simulation completed its loading sequence. After that there was only pitch blackness.

Great, thought Player Name. Don't tell me the simulation's crashed.

It soon became clear however, that the darkness was merely part of the program. He became aware of a thin shaft of light slashing through the blackness, it was not bright and yet he was forced to scrunch his eyes as they adjusted. He tried to followed the course of the light and was just able to decipher out the outline of a narrow window, which appeared to be barred. The bars were quite rusty, and the window appeared to be cut into a rough stone brick wall.

In fact the whole room was of stone; grim grey brick walls glowing a dim red from the weak flames of the ensconced torches, not dissimilar to the inside of a medieval castle. He looked around and realised that one side of the small room was not of stone , rather there was a row of iron bars, rusted brown and straddled by cobwebs.

"You've got to be shitting me," said Player Name out loud. "I'm in a prison cell?"

"Indeed you are," said a high, nasal voice. "And by your blue jumpsuit, I'm guessing you must be a vault dweller, right?"

The speaker was in a cell adjacent to Player Name, and a bizarre sight he was too. A short, sickly-looking creature, his skin was ashen grey and his long matted hair, which was silvery-white, failed to hide his elf-like pointed ears. His slanted eyes blazed red as he stared through the bars of his cell with prideful malevolence.

"I might well be," said Player Name, "and who, or what, are you?"

"That is not important," snapped the prisoner. "But tell me, how do you like it here, being underground in this deep, dark dungeon?"

"I don't," said Player Name. "It's dank, dirty, and there's a strong smell of urine. Put it this way, it wouldn't be my first choice for throwing a party."

"Really?" said the prisoner in mock surprise. "I would have thought you'd enjoy this sort of thing, living deep underground, never enjoying the pleasure of a warm, sunny day, the smell of fresh spring flowers, or even the sight of a rainbow."

"Well, it's really not that bad."

"What, you mean you actually enjoy living in a vault, seeing the same people every day, eating the same food day in, day out, being constantly told how to live your life by the Overseer? Do you always do what other people tell you to do?"

"Ah, I get it now. You're an asshole."

"It's surely no way to live, I imagine you just exist from day-to-day. And isn't it ironic that after you finally manage to escape from your dark hole, you end up here, back underground, in this dark, damp, lonely pit. So sad."

"Shut up."

"And to make matters worse, there's no chance of escaping from here. Because you're going to die down here, vault -dweller. You're going to die!"

Player Name decided to let his new friend harp on and took a moment to survey the interior of his prison cell. There wasn't much in the way of creature comforts, only a table and chair, and a filthy bedroll spread on the cold stone floor. This simulation wasn't going to be much fun, that seemed for certain.

There came the sound of footsteps, as though descending an unseen flight of stairs. It sounded like more than one person, possibly at least three, and it sounded like they were getting closer.

"Hey, you hear that, vault-dweller? The guards are coming for you," said the prisoner, and cackled evilly.

The noise-makers came into view, stopping outside Player Name's cell. There were three in total, two were big, tough-looking men dressed in armour reminiscent of Japanese samurai, while the third was an elderly man, looking splendid in fur-lined purple robes that cried out "I am the king."

In fact, the old man was an emperor, none other than Muriel Septic, Emperor of the Universe, and his two accomplices were Delboy and Brontosaurus, members of the Blades, the emperor's elite bodyguard unit. They were big, bad, and most of all seemed very unhappy to see Player Name.

"What the hell is this prisoner doing here?" barked Delboy. "This cell is supposed to be off-limits."

"Ooh, you're so masterful," said the emperor.

"Thank you, your majesty. You! Prisoner!"

"I do have a name, you know," said Player Name.

"And I don't give a damn. So get yourself up against the back wall and don't move until we say so unless you want to wear my sword across your neck."

Player Name obliged, much to the delight of the elf-like prisoner.

"There he goes again, doing anything anyone tells him to do," he said.

"Shut up you," said Brontosaurus.

Delboy clumsily jangled a set of keys until he found the right one, unlocked the cell door and entered. He briefly looked around, before scowling hard at Player Name with fiery eyes.

"The coast is clear, your majesty," he said, and so the emperor and Brontosaurus also entered. The aged monarch stopped in his tracks as his eyes met Player Name's, and his face seemed to light up like a Christmas tree.

"It's you," he said suddenly. "I've seen you."

"Come again?" said Player Name.

"Let me see your face," said the emperor, grabbing Player Name's cheeks and looking him up and down quite thoroughly.

"You are the one from my dreams," said the emperor in hushed tones. "Then my stars were right. This is the day. I've finally found you, love of my life."

"Huh?" said Player Name.

"Destiny has brought you here, so that we may be together forever," continued the emperor His pale hands slid down Player Name's face and down his body until they were clasping tightly around his hips. The would-be love interest nervously tried to push away from the amorous emperor as subtly as possible, but he could not escape the imperial embrace.

"Now wait a minute," said Player Name. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am your emperor, Muriel Septic. By the grace of the gods I serve the universe as her ruler. You are a citizen of the universe, and you will serve me in your own special way."

"Muriel?" said Player Name "say, you didn't know a guy named Azrukhal by any chance, did you?"

"No," said the emperor, "but I'm going to enjoy getting to know you."

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," said Player Name. "A big, horrible misunderstanding."

"How dare you question the emperor's judgement," said Delboy, and cuffed him hard around the back of the head.

"No, you really don't understand."said Player Name, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't enter this simulation looking for a relationship. I came here to find my father."

"Well you've found him," said the emperor, "now come to daddy."

The emperor began to gyrate his hips as his hands snaked their way further down Player Name's body and clamped firmly around his buttocks. Player Name was by now very, very alarmed.

"Please stop," he said, as calmly as he could.

"How dare you give orders to the emperor," said Delboy, and gave Player Name another vicious cuff around the head.

"Ow! You don't understand, I...err...I don't swing that way."

"How dare you not swing that way," said Delboy, and was about to strike Player Name again before Brontosaurus stopped him.

"Sir," he said, "we need to keep moving."

"Yes," said the emperor, composing himself, "Brontosaurus is right. We must press onward."

Delboy gave a low growl. "As you wish, your majesty." With one final glower in Player Name's direction, he walked over to the wall of the cell and pushed an unevenly-shaped brick. There was a distant, mechanical scraping and a section of the wall suddenly slid aside, revealing a secret passage.

"Wow!" said Player Name. "That's awesome!"

"Shut up," said Delboy. "Let's go your majesty. I assume the prisoner is to remain here?"

"No, absolutely not," said the emperor, and turned to Player Name with a suggestive grin across his wizened features.

"Come with us," he said. "Your destiny is tied up with mine."

"Can't I stay here?" said Player Name weakly and was answered by a sword at his throat.

"Get going!" snarled Delboy.


	22. Monster

The secret passage led through a narrow corridor carved into a natural cavern. The air grew fresher the further they moved along, with Delboy leading the way, followed by Player Name who was trying his utmost to retain some distance between himself and the emperor. Brontosaurus covered the rear, despite the emperor's insistence that he himself was quite capable of doing so.

"I'm quite capable of covering the prisoner's rear...err I mean all of our rears," insisted His Majesty.

"I'm sorry sir," said Brontosaurus, "but we just can't risk a sneak attack from behind. I'm very experienced in these kinds of situations."

"Ooh, I bet you are," replied the emperor with a grin and a wink.

The corridor opened out into a vast underground chamber, built of marble with a row of pillars either side of the walkway. The brilliance of the marble had long ago dimmed through age and dust, but there could be no denying the magnificent craftsmanship that had gone into the elaborate carvings adorning the architecture.

"Quite remarkable, wouldn't you say?" said the emperor.

"No," said Player Name, "it's just a computer simulation."

"You'd better shut up with that crazy talk," snarled Delboy. "You're really starting to get on my nerves."

They pressed onward, passing through a rickety wooden door, which led to another long corridor. More than once, Delboy insisted Player Name be left behind, and the emperor always refused, much to the Blade's annoyance.

"Um, may I ask a question," said Player Name, raising an arm hesitantly.

"No," said Delboy.

"Of course," said the emperor, "feel free to express yourself however you like. Would you feel more comfortable taking your clothes off first?"

"Uhh, no it's fine. I was just going to ask where we're going?"

"Are you stupid?" said Delboy. "Is it not obvious we're escaping from Lord Dagon?"

"Who's Lord Dagon?" asked Player Name.

"You don't know who Lord Dagon is?" asked Brontosaurus.

"Well, no, that's why I'm asking."

"Wow, he's never heard of Lord Dagon," said Brontosaurus who appeared to be quite shocked.

"Yes, I heard him," said Delboy grumpily, "I do have ears, you know."

"So, wanna tell me who Lord Dagon is?"

"He's our arch-enemy," said Delboy.

"The most evil arch-enemy in the world," added Brontosaurus.

"He's so evil, it hurts," said the emperor.

"So, where is he?" said Player Name. "I haven't noticed anyone following us."

The words were scarcely out his mouth when there came a terrible crash as the ceiling collapsed in a shower of rubble. Everyone managed to get clear, but there was now a gaping hole revealing the azure blue of the noon sky.

Through the hole they could see a monstrous figure, tall as a building, an androgynous, devil-like creature, red-skinned with four arms. The huge iron mace it wielded was the size of a redwood.

"Lord Dagon!" cried Delboy. "Scatter!"

The creature brought the great weapon down, sending more ceiling crashing to the floor. The monster roared triumphantly as the party skittered around like ants.

"Rawr!" he bellowed. "Lord Dagon smash!"

"This way!" yelled Delboy, frantically trying to avoid the falling masonry. They sprinted down a corridor as full speed, leaving the hideous roars of Lord Dagon behind them. When they were sure they had left him far behind, they paused for breath.

"We must keep moving," said Delboy. "Lord Dagon will find us again soon enough."

"How did a barely-literate hulk like that...thing ever get a royal title, that's what I'd like to know," said Player Name.

The emperor blushed and exchanged awkward glances with the two Blades.

"Errm, that might be something to do with me," said the emperor.

"You gave him a title? Why the hell would you do that?"

The emperor looked indignant. "Well, I happen to believe that it's better to make love than war. So when Mr Dagon turned up in the empire and started smashing everything in sight, I decided to take the diplomatic approach. Rather than sending the troops against him, I suspected that beneath the raging exterior lay a tormented soul who just wanted to be loved. So I proclaimed that the monster would henceforth be known as Lord Dagon, to show him that even giant monsters could become productive members of society."

"Why didn't you just offer him a cushy job?" asked Player Name.

"I felt that by making him a member of the nobility, he would be less likely to try and smash up everything in sight. If he was made to feel extremely important then perhaps he would stop his path of destruction and try to better himself for the benefit of all. Plus, he doesn't fit in any buildings, so he wouldn't be able to do much in the way of actual work."

"Doesn't look like it did any good," said Player Name disdainfully.

"Don't be so sure, my hunky friend. You'd be surprised at what a difference it made."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Before he was a big lumbering brute who went around wreaking havoc while roaring 'Dagon smash!' Now he's a big lumbering brute who goes around wreaking havoc while roaring 'Lord Dagon smash!'"

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" asked Player Name.

"Yes," said the emperor sadly. "I fear we are."

"Come on!" cried Delboy. "We need to keep moving!"

The party moved onward through a series of ancient chambers, fighting through cobwebs, struggling to see by the dim light of their torches. A short distance ahead they found the way ahead barred by a huge iron gate.

"Damn it!" snapped Delboy. "The enemy has barred the gate from the other side. A trap!"

Delboy and Brontosaurus drew their swords, ready for whatever might spring from the shadows.

"I hear someone!" cried Delboy. "Back this way!"

"You stay here," said Brontosaurus to Player Name. "Guard the emperor with your life."

"What? You're leaving me alone with him?" said Player Name. "Can't I come with you and fight the bad guys?"

"We'll be fine Brontosaurus," said the emperor. "I'm sure our friend will look after me."

Brontosaurus nodded and ran off after Delboy.

"Stop!" said Player Name. "Please come back."

It was then he felt a pair of hands slip seductively around his waist.

"Now we are alone, at last," said the emperor. "You must be warm. Why don't you slip out of that vault-suit?"

"Oh my," said Player Name, and turned to shield the amorous advances of his unwelcome suitor. He viewed the scene with apparent horror.

"Oh crap!" said Player Name. "Look behind you!"

"Ahaha, I'm not falling for that one," laughed the emperor, right before he was struck unconscious by a figure in crimson robes. Player Name tried to see the face of the attacker, but it was obscured by a heavy hood.

Quite suddenly, the hooded figure grabbed Player Name by the arm.

"Quick!" he said. "Follow me!"


	23. Old friends

The red-robed stranger led Player Name through a network of passages; the place was a labyrinth.

"Where are we going?" asked Player Name.

"No time to explain," said the stranger, "we have to keep moving, and keep ahead of the Blades and Lord Dagon.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"Of course I do. Just keep following me."

After running for around ten minutes, the stranger finally came to a halt. It was a dead end.

"Can we please stop?" said Player Name. "I have a stitch."

"Yes," said the stranger. "but only until I get this open."

"Get what open? It's a dead end."

"Look down," said the stranger, and Player Name saw a stone grate in the floor.

"What's down there?" asked Player Name.

"The sewers." said the stranger, struggling to open the heavy grate.

"The sewers? Eww, I'm not going down there!"

"In that case, which would you prefer? Decapitation by the Blades, or being squashed flat by Lord Dagon?"

"All right, all right, point proven," said Player Name as the pair began to descend down a deep shaft. The smell was overwhelming.

"Ugh, this place stinks," said Player Name.

"It's a sewer, what did you expect, roses?" said the stranger.

They reached the bottom of the shaft, and found themselves barely able to see in the dank darkness. The only sound was of running water somewhere nearby.

The stranger lit a torch, and turned towards Player Name.

"We're safe, for now," he said, "and it is time for me to reveal my true identity to you."

He threw the hood back, and Player Name found himself staring into a familiar face.

"Behold! It is I! Your father, Liam Neeson!"

"Oh wow, what a total surprise," said Player Name, his voice oozing sarcasm.

"Eh? What do you mean?"

"Well, who else was it going to be? I do know what your voice sounds like."

"Hmf, you've ruined my climax," said Liam Neeson.

"If it's any consolation, it's good to see you, dad. Now, how about you tell me how to get us out of this simulation?"

"I don't know," said Liam Neeson. "I was hoping you'd come here to rescue me."

"Well, sort of, but I don't know how to get out either."

"Bugger."

"You mean we could be trapped in here forever?"

"Looks that way son. At least we have each other, and we're relatively safe for now."

Suddenly, there was an almighty crashing noise, and Player Name and Liam Neeson had to dive for cover as the ceiling came crashing down. Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough, and they found themselves half-buried in rubble.

"I can't move!" called Player Name.

"Me neither son."

"Raaaaaawwwwwwrrrr!" roared a familiar, if unwelcome voice. "Lord Dagon smash!"

The great monster, towering over the newly-created hole in the ceiling, raised his great mace and prepared to strike the helpless pair.

"Wait dad," said Player Name, "if this is only a computer simulation, surely he won't be able to harm us?"

"I only wish that were true son," said Liam Neeson, "but safety parameters have been disabled."

"Ah, of course, the old cliché," said Player Name. "We're gonna get squished, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so son."

Those were their last words before Lord Dagon brought the mace crashing down upon the pair.

When the monster brought up his weapon, both Liam Neeson and Player Name were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Player Name opened his eyes, and saw only blackness.

Is this what happens when you die? he thought.

In the distance, he thought he could hear a noise. It was a whirring noise, a mechanical whirring.

The whirring stopped after about five seconds, and then he heard a fierce pneumatic hiss. Finally, there was a rumble as the door of his tranquillity lounger slid open, and he had to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

Pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the light, he slid off the chair and his feet clumped down onto the metal floor. Amidst row-upon-row of tranquillity loungers he saw the figure of his father, Liam Neeson, and another familiar figure.

"Greetings," said Fluffyman. "The mere fact that I am here should be enough indication that the day has been saved."

"Mysterious stranger!" cried Player Name. "Am I glad to see you."

"That is, of course, obvious," said Fluffyman.

"But what happened?" asked Liam Neeson.

"Simple. I, the Mysterious Stranger, told the Robobrains to let you out."

"But how did you stop them throwing you into a tranquillity lounger?" asked Liam Neeson, who was becoming more and more by the formidable figure who stood before him.

"I am sorry, but the Mysterious Stranger does not reveal the secrets of his awesomeness."

"Wow, what a guy," said Liam Neeson. "I like you, I like you a lot."

"Fluffyman is well used to such adulation," replied Fluffyman, and immediately realised his mistake.

"Who the hell is Fluffyman?" said Liam Neeson.

"Well, he is," said Player Name. "Aren't you, Fluffyman?"

"Fluffyman?" chuckled Liam Neeson. "Your name is Fluffyman?"

"Yes," snapped Fluffyman through gritted teeth. He shook his fist angrily.

"Curse you Moira Brown!" he growled.

"Fluffyman!" laughed Liam Neeson. "What an eejit!"

"In any case," said Player Name, "shouldn't we be getting out of here?"

"Yes," said Liam Neeson, "but first there's someone I want you to meet. In fact, he's right here."

Player Name's eyes widened. "Oh my god!" he said. "It's you!"


	24. Boom

_Wow, over 100 reviews. Big shout out to those who submitted, and to any subscribers who are still reading. Special thanks go to those who submitted multiple reviews, making the story seem more popular than it actually is._

"Meh-h-h," said Billy the goat.

"Billy! said Player Name. "You're alive. But how?"

"I had to protect him from the Overseer," said Liam Neeson. "The little guy had been deemed a 'drain on resources,' according to his highness. I knew what it meant; Billy's days were numbered. So late one night, I took the goat by the leash and left the vault for good. And he and I have been wandering the wastes ever since, until I showed up here and was unceremoniously bundled into a tranquillity lounger by a crazy robot."

"The Overseer told me he'd already killed Billy and turned him into goat meat," said Player Name.

"Yes, the Overseer did like to get you riled up. I don't think you realise just how much he hates you for stealing his comic."

"Hated," corrected Player Name.

"Oh, is the old bastard dead?" asked Liam Neeson. "How'd it happen? Did some nutcase finally flip and murder him or something?"

"Ah-ha-ha," laughed Player Name nervously.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. What I'd like to know is what you're doing outside the vault?"

"I'm not," said Player Name, "I'm here in the vault with you, Billy and Fluffyman."

"Funny bugger," said Liam Neeson, "did your mammy tell you you should be a comedian?"

"No, my mother's dead," said Player Name blankly.

"Oh yeah, so she is. Sorry."

"So, you left the vault just to save the goat?" said Player Name, trying to relieve the awkward moment which had arisen.

"Partly. I had another reason for leaving, which will become apparent as the story develops."

"Well, I'm just glad you and Billy are both safe, said Player Name. "And you know, given what he's been through, I think we should give Billy a new name to reflect this."

"Why?" asked Fluffyman.

"Well, Billy is such a boring name. So, I would like to proclaim that from this time forward, Billy shall henceforth be known as...Goatmeat!"

"Whatever floats your boat," said Liam Neeson cynically. "In the meantime, these robobrains are making me nervous. Let's get out of here before these mechanical menaces decide to take us back to Lord smashy-smash."

"Good idea," said Player Name. "Come Goatmeat, let's fly!"

* * *

So Player Name, Liam Neeson, Fluffyman and Goatmeat departed the vault, and began heading east across the wastes at Liam Neeson's insistence.

"Where are we going Dad?" asked Player Name.

"We're headed for a place called Rivet City."

"We're going to Glasgow? But isn't that all the way in Scotland or something?"

"No no. I said Rivet City, not River City. Anyway, it's quite a trek to get there, so I think it would be a good idea to stop off at Megaton along the way for supplies."

"I concur with this plan," said Fluffyman, "and with my seal of approval it shall be so."

"You tell 'em Fluffyarse," said Liam Neeson.

"Fluffyman, may I ask you a question?" said Player Name.

"Ask, and I, the Mysterious Stranger, may answer, if I deem it worthy enough."

"How did you get the name Fluffyman?"

"Urgh," flinched Fluffyman, who reeled from every utterance of his name as though struck by a physical blow.

"Just answer the bloody question, and stop acting like a twat for God's sake," said Liam Neeson.

"Very well," said Fluffyman, "but it's a very long story."

"That's okay, we've got time."

And so Fluffyman began his tale.

* * *

Seven hours later, Fluffyman finished his story.

"Well," said Player Name, "that was certainly a long story. But now I know why you're called Fluffyman, and my life is richer for it."

Having killed some time, they moved on through the wastes, until after a few days' walking, they spotted a familiar sight on the horizon.

"Look," said Liam Neeson, "Megaton up ahead."

In the distance rose the ragged skyline of scrap metal, the defensive wall that encircled the ramshackle settlement where Player Name had first found solitude upon leaving Vault 101.

"I'd forgotten what a dump it was," added Liam Neeson.

The party quickened their pace, desperate for shelter and a generous quantity of alcohol. However, as they neared, quite unexpectedly there was a blinding white flash, and a few moments later the four were thrown from their feet by a massive shockwave.

The light subsided, and where Megaton had once been there was now a massive mushroom cloud rising into the sky.

"Uh oh," said Player Name, "someone really should have done something about that Mr Burke."

"Bollocks," said Liam Neeson, "there goes my favourite pub."

"Such a waste," said Fluffyman, solemnly removing his hat. "All those people, gone in the blink of an eye. My only consolation is that Moira Brown is dead."

"Meh-h-h," said Goatmeat, who didn't seem to be the slightest bit interested.

With their hopes of beer and poomtang literally up in flames, the party made the decision to press onward to Rivet City, with only a higher Geiger count to show for their troubles.

"Hey, can you guys hang back for a minute?" said Player Name. I have some pressing business to attend to."

"All right," said Liam Neeson, "but don't be long."

With that, Player Name left the party.

* * *

"It wasn't me!" said Player Name to Three Dog, and having conducted his pressing business, he left to find his friends again.

* * *

Player Name found his companions again, and after uttering a few half-hearted greetings, they resumed their journey to Rivet City.

"I told you not to be long," said Liam Neeson.

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Player Name.


	25. Rivet City

They walked for days, with little event along the way. Fluffyman, of course, insisted that no one dared come near them when he was around, but Liam Neeson simply told him to stop being such a narcissistic wee muppet, speculating instead that Super Mutants were scared of goats.

"They could be scared of the smell," he said. "I think it's time we gave Billy..."

"Goatmeat," corrected Player Name.

"...it's time we gave Goatfeet a bath."

"He certainly smells like feet," said Fluffyman.

Goatmeat appeared not to take sides in the argument and contented himself with trying to munch on Player Name's, by now appallingly grubby, vaultsuit.

The route they took led them down to the docks, or at least what was left of them.

"Well, here we are," said Liam Neeson. "Rivet City. What do you think?"

"I think you've taken a wrong turn somewhere," said Player Name. "There's nothing here."

"Well, obviously not right here," said Liam Neeson. "We haven't gone aboard yet."

"Aboard?" It was then that Player Name noticed the hulk of an abandoned US Navy aircraft carrier, the only ship more-or-less intact amidst the half-sunken wrecks that littered the bay.

"A ship?" asked Player Name in amazement. "The city is onboard the ship?"

"Of course," said Liam Neeson. "What better place to ensure protection from the mutants? The place is a fortress and the river provides a natural moat. No one can get on or off without security's permission."

Liam Neeson located the call button, pressed it, and after a surly response, the gangway was extended and the four were able to go aboard.

"I will not be going any further," said Fluffyman. "Somewhere out there, in the wastes, there are others who need me. While I'm sure this parting will not be without sadness, know that this..."

"Yeah, 'kay, bye," said Liam Neeson abruptly.

Thus, the Mysterious Stranger departed.

"Where the hell did you find that idiot?" asked Liam Neeson. "I guess he makes you look good eh?"

* * *

After around ten minutes of intense questioning by the ship's chief of security, and a lot more time filling out forms, including ticking boxes next to questions such as: "Do you intend to seek gainful employment during your stay in Rivet City?", "Are you visiting Rivet City with the intention of carrying out illegal activities?", and "Are you a Super Mutant, or do you have a close relative who is a Super Mutant?", the threesome were finally allowed access to the vessel.

They made their way through the ship, until Liam Neeson stopped at a door labelled "Science Lab," and entered. Inside, there were a number of scientists in grubby white lab coats, diligently tending to the assortment of test tubes, Petri-dishes and microscopes which cluttered the workbenches lined against the cold metal walls. There was also an assortment of extraordinarily fresh-looking fruit on display.

"Guys!" called Liam Neeson. "I'm back."

The scientists stopped dead in their tracks, and there was a synchronisation of jaw-dropping before they all eagerly moved to embrace him as Player Name stood in the background awkwardly twiddling the end of Goatmeat's leash.

After exchanging words with his friends, Liam Neeson gestured to Player Name to join them.

"Son, I'd like you to meet my former work buddies, it's been so long since we've seen each other. We're such good friends we just refer to each other by nickname."

He put his arm around the shoulder of a nervous-looking woman.

"This is Nervous One Who'll Probably Be The First To Die," he said.

"Hi," she said nervously, as though she were about to die.

The next to be introduced was a tall, thin woman whose eyes flicked rapidly from side to side like a chameleon.

"This is Slightly Shifty One With Bad Haircut," he said.

"Hi," said Player Name. "Hope you aren't going to betray us in future or anything."

"Who me? Never." said Slightly Shifty One, unconvincingly.

"By the way," said Player Name, "I love your hair. It's like one solid mass, like a Darth Vader helmet."

"Thanks. I always insist my hairdresser uses a spirit level."

A burly looking man in overalls was the next to shake Player Name's hand.

"This is Amiable One With a Heart Condition," said Liam Neeson.

"Uh oh," said Player Name.

"What is it?" asked Amiable One.

"Hope we're not going to have a 'leave me, go on without me' moment from you if we're ever running from danger."

"Nah," said Amiable Guy.

Next was a shrewish man in thick spectacles.

"This is Snooty One with a Superiority Complex."

"Hi," said Player Name.

"You don't belong here," said Snooty One, "because you're different and stupid."

Finally, he pointed out a sour-faced woman with Asian features.

"This is Fiercely Independent Chick with No Sense of Humour."

"That's not funny. Oh, and don't call me a chick you chauvinist bastard," said Independent Chick. "For the last time my name is Doctor Li."

"Sorry Doctor Li."

"Hrumph."

"Anyway," said Liam Neeson, "I'm sure you all know why I'm here. I've been gone for a long time, and it looks as though you've managed to establish yourselves here. The last time we met, over two decades ago, we were forced to abandon Project Purity. But in all that time, I never lost faith that one day we could make it work.

"Player Name, thank you once again for rescuing me from Vault 112. It was perhaps foolish of me to go there without adequate preparation. But fortunately, before I was captured and thrown into a tranquillity lounger, I made the discovery I hoped to make when I went there. I now fully believe that we can make Project Purity work."

There was a collective gasp from the assembly.

"With all due respect," said Doctor Li, "why should we abandon what we've managed to achieve here just to follow you again? We failed to make it work last time, and I don't see why we should go yomping all the way back to the lab, just because you think you can make it work again after all these years? We've made some real achievements here, in the field of plastic fruit manufacturing."

"I know we can make this work," said Liam Neeson, "because I now know what we did wrong."

"I still don't see why we should go all the way back there."

"What are you talking about? The lab's a five minute walk down the road?"

"Oh," said Doctor Li. "I forgot. So it is. Well, I would, but you do remember that the Super Mutants have taken over the building and turned it into a arts theatre don't you? How are we ever going to defeat them?"

"Don't worry," said Liam Neeson, "that's where Player Name comes in."

"Huh?" said Player Name.


	26. Jefferson

_Apologies for not updating this for a while. This is due to other issues including computer problems. I'll try to write more often in future._

The Jefferson Memorial stood as a monument to one of the most resourceful individuals the United States of America had ever produced. Once Liam Neeson and his friend had got their hands on it, the domed structure had demonstrated its own resourcefulness evident by the maze of scaffolds and pipes which protruded from the building.

'Dad, what the hell have you done?' said Player Name with dismay. 'That's an important part of American history. Have you no respect?'

'No,' said Liam Neeson. 'I'm Irish remember?'

'Well, what about you guys?' said Player Name to Liam Neeson's scientific entourage. 'Surely you have some objection to this?'

'Well, yes,' said Amiable One With a Heart Condition, 'but I don't like to cause an argument.'

'I was too nervous to point it out,' said Nervous One Who'll Probably be the First to Die.

'I don't have to justify my reasons to you, you inferior pleb,' said Snooty One With a Superiority Complex.

'I was too busy trying to figure out how the situation might benefit my paymasters...if I had any...which I don't,' said Slightly Shifty One with Bad Haircut.

'And I have better things to worry about,' said Doctor Li.

'Well, it's good to know I'm surrounded by uncultured hooligans,' said Player Name. 'Anyway, shall we go in?'

'Are you stupid?' said Doctor Li. 'Don't you remember that the building has been taken over by super mutants and turned into an arts theatre?'

'Oh, yeah,' said Player Name. 'But what are we going to do about it?'

'Simple,' said Liam Neeson. 'You're going to go inside and get rid of them.'

Player Name chuckled.

'Oh, simple as that is it?' he said.

'Yes,' said Liam Neeson, who wasn't laughing. 'We need you to go in there and kill everyone you find.'

'Holy crap, you're serious, aren't you?'

'I've never been more serious in my life, son. Project Purity is far too important to lose, regardless of the cultural significance of the mutants' evil plan.'

'But what can I do against an arts theatre full of homicidal mutants?'

'Remember what I told you all those years ago, about having to learn to fend for yourself? Well, this is where my lessons will hopefully bear fruit. It's time you learned how to be a man son.'

'So you expect me to go in there and take them on with my bare hands?'

Liam Neeson laughed. 'No, don't be silly, son. I've been keeping this flamethrower for just such an occasion as this. It's time for you to have it.' With that, Liam Neeson produced random weapon parts from strategic locations inside his coat, before quickly assembling them into something that resembled a flamethrower.

'Here,' said Liam Neeson presenting the weapon. 'Take it with love.'

'Uh, thanks I guess,' said Player Name. 'You are coming in with me, right?'

'Oh no,' said Liam Neeson, 'absolutely not. We're all far too scared to go in there. We might get hurt. Anyway, it's time to stop faffing about. Get your arse in there right now.'

Inside, the evening show had just begun. The audience watched, eyes fixated on stage where a great hulking brute in a pink tutu and hobnailed boots pranced, pivoted and pirouetted his way through a carefully rehearsed dance routine. The ground shook every time one of his great feet slammed down, as another mutant tinkled out The Nutcracker on a makeshift xylophone made from driftwood and deathclaw teeth.

From the shadows Player Name readied his weapon, poised to unleash fiery death on an unsuspecting audience. He was just about to pull the trigger when all of a sudden he felt a tell-tale tingle in his nose. Before he could get his hand over his mouth, he let out a loud sneeze, inadvertently squeezing down on the trigger which blew a plume of flame harmlessly over the heads of the mutant audience. As two dozen heads turned in Player Name's direction, the awkward moment was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the fire alarm. The sprinkler system activated, showering cold water on the crowd, which did nothing to alleviate their already irate temperament.

Player Name could only grin sheepishly.

'Hi,' he murmured. 'I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding.'

'Get him!' roared one of the mutants, and they were all immediately up and at him. Screaming in terror, Player Name leaped out of the way as a mutant tried to tackle him, then ducked beneath an incoming fist the size of his head. Quickly he leaped up onto the stage, but as he clambered up he felt someone grab his leg. Frantically, he tried to kick the mutant away, but the great brute was impervious to his feeble attacks. As he was pulled off the stage, Player Name desperately grabbed at anything he could find, wrapping his hands around a heavy cable loop, one of many which hung down from the ceiling. He held on for dear life as the mutant pulled harder and harder. By luck, he landed a kick square in the mutant's eye, forcing him to let go his foot. Without hesitation, Player Name shimmied up the cable until he was clinging just out of reach of two dozen or so angry mutants who all wanted to tear him limb from limb.

One of the mutants began to yank angrily on the cable as other began throwing things at him. Player Name hung on for dear life as the cable swished violently from side to side. He heard it beginning to strain and knew that his end must be near. He closed his eyes and waited for the fall.

There was an almighty snap as the cable parted, but he did not feel himself fall. Opening his eyes, he realised it had snapped beneath his feet. The mutant was left holding a broken length cable, which he tossed aside in frustration.

Unfortunately for the mutant, he had forgotten about the floor which was now wet from the sprinklers. As the live cable touched the ground it sent a surge of electricity across the surface, and the mutants, in their hobnailed boots, writhed in unison as the electricity coursed through their bodies.

Player Name watched in amazement as the sea of mutants beneath him all dropped dead, a faint smell of frying bacon lingering in the air.

Oh yeah, he thought. I did it. I presume that makes me a bad ass, which is nice.

Now, how am I going to get down?

Meanwhile, not too far away, Lieutenant Grimsdale of mercenary group, the Talon Company shook the hand of his newest client.

'Don't worry,' said Grimsdale, 'we always get the job done. You can be sure of that.'

'I hope so,' said the client, handing over a photograph of Player Name. 'This is a picture of the target I want you to to eliminate. See that he is taken care of.'

Grimsdale looked at the photo and scoffed.

'Don't worry, I have just the man for this assignment. Mark my words, Player Name will soon die.'


	27. Enclave

After a long and laborious process far too complicated to go into detail about, Player Name was eventually rescued from his perilous position by Liam Neeson and his somewhat ungrateful posse of scientific chums.

'So,' said Player Name, 'how about all them heroics huh? Pretty god darn awesome, wouldn't you say?'

'Mmm, yeah, if you say so.'

With the super mutants out of the way, the team could begin the process of bringing Project Purity back online, and this they tended to with an almost zealous diligence, and Player Name found himself cast aside, his brave, yet ultimately lucky act quite forgotten. The Jefferson Memorial became a hustle and bustle of activity as the scientists tended to the extensive network of computers adorning the rooms and corridors of the former tourist attraction.

'But what is Project Purity?' asked Player Name yet again.

'It's fucking awesome,' came the same reply for the thirteenth time.

'Yes, but what is it?'

'Sigh.'

'Oh, come on. Humour me.'

'All right,' said Nervous One. 'When you're outside and you look out over the Potomac River, what do you see?'

'Mostly people shooting at me,' said Player Name blankly.

'Yes, but in the brief respite between hostilities, what do you see?'

'A big dirty brown river beneath a skyline as ragged and ramshackle as a redneck's teeth.'

Nervous One snapped her fingers gleefully, then immediately apologised nervously for making too much noise. 'Exactly,' she said. 'There's the operative word. Brown. And that's what Project Purity is all about.'

'Making things brown?'

'No no. Making the water we drink from the river less brown, and therefore more palatable.'

'Oh, you mean fresh, clean water for all; a bustling river free from muck and radiation?'

'No, just making the water less brown. Presentation is everything you know. In essence it's a large-scale debrownifier. If we can get it working, it could lead to a brave new world, free from brown water.'

'Right on. So how is the project coming along?'

'Well, Liam Neeson has been at the forefront of it of course, since he's so amazing, but even he was forced to admit defeat as the debrownifier is missing one key component that will prevent it from ever working.'

'Oh brother,' said Player Name with an ever-increasing sense of dread. 'Let me guess, only one of said component exists in the world, buried deep within an abandoned vault swarming with robots, super mutants and other assorted horrors?'

'No, not at all, ' said Liam Neeson. who had overheard. 'What we need is a device called a geck. There are several of them around, don't you worry about that.'

'Well good,' said Player Name. 'But what's a geck?'

'It's short for gecko, and a gecko is a lizard which is found in various habitats throughout the world. The only drawback is that there aren't any in the Capital Wasteland.'

'Of course there had to be a drawback,' said Player Name. 'Life sucks so much. I think I need some jet.'

'Now now,' said Liam Neeson. 'No son of mine's going to be touching that shite. Again. What you will need to do Player Name is to embark on a dangerous quest to find suck a geck...o.'

Not for the first time, Player Name got the feeling that someone upstairs really did not like him at all, and having lost the energy to argue against the plan, he reluctantly agreed to help find the aforementioned creature.

'So where exactly am I supposed to find one?'

'You must venture to the far west,' said Liam Neeson, 'to a place called the Mojave Wasteland. There you will find the prize you seek.'

'Dammit, how the hell am I supposed to get all the way out there?' said Player Name.

'I'm sure an opportunity will present itself in time.'

'Hey, said Player Name. 'Do you hear that?'

'Why yes,' said Liam Neeson, 'I do believe it sounds like the whirring of helicopter rotor blades. Perhaps it's someone come to help with Project Purity.'

'I hope they have a geck...o if it is,' said Player Name.

* * *

The Vertibird dual-rotor military helicopter hovered above the Jefferson Memorial. Inside, power-armoured Enclave troops surveyed the building which now lay silent, offering no clue as to the violence which had taken place only hours before.

'Gee,' said Private Heffernan, 'I sure hope no poor soul has gone in there. It's crawling with super mutants you know.'

'Yeah,' said Private Grabowski. 'It doesn't matter how much violence I see out here in the wasteland; the death of a fellow human being still makes me bawl like a baby every time.'

Heffernan put his hand on Grabowski's shoulder. 'That's because you're a decent human being.'

'You're also a nice person,' said Corporal Oppenheimer. 'And being nice is what the Enclave is all about.'

'Aww shucks,' said the Private Grabowski. 'You guys are so sweet. I think I'm welling up here.'

'It's okay to cry,' said Heffernan. 'It shows you care, just like an Enclave soldier should.'

'Anyway,' said Grabowski, 'shouldn't we be making tracks to the orphanage about now? We still ain't done our good deed for the day.'

'You're right,' said Oppenheimer. 'Let's go.'

'Hold on,' said the pilot. 'Incoming message coming through...from the president himself.'

'Holy crap,' said Oppenheimer, 'you'd better put it through on the intercom immediately.'

'Corporal, don't swear!' said Heffernan.

'Sorry.'

The intercom in the cabin crackled into life as the booming tones of President John Henry Eden came to life.

'Soldiers,' he said. 'Greetings from your president, John Henry Eden. I would like to commend you all for the good work you have done, but in light of recent events I'm afraid I'm going to have to announce a change in strategy. Instead of being nice to people all the time, I believe it has now become a necessity for every man and woman serving in the Enclave to stop what they're doing immediately and refocus all their efforts on trying to kill a man named Player Name. I am speaking to you now as the gentleman in question is currently inside the Jefferson Memorial building. Your orders are to stop what you are doing and kill Player Name. You'll recognise him as he's wearing a vault suit and looks remarkably like his father, who happens to be Liam Neeson. I repeat, eliminate Player Name with extreme prejudice. That is all.'

'Well, that's not nice,' said Grabowski, 'not nice at all. In fact that's really mean.'

'Gotta do what the president says though,' said Oppenheimer, readying his plasma rifle.

'I guess you're right,' said Grabowski. 'Lock and load.'


	28. Sewer

Vertibirds swarmed around the Jefferson Memorial like flies around a corpse as more and more Enclave troops in power armour poured into the building in search of their target. The science team were completely taken by surprise as they found themselves looking down the barrels of deadly plasma rifles.

'Okay, you ragamuffins,' bellowed a young grunt, 'we believe you're harbouring a wanted man by the name of Player Name. We demand you hand him over immediately.'

'Why, what has he done?' asked Liam Neeson.

'That's not your concern. All you need to know is that we're looking for him, and that we have big guns that we're prepared to use.'

'Are you going to hurt him?' asked Amiable One with a Heart Condition, 'because that would stress me out which isn't good for my heart.'

'I'm afraid we're going to kill him,' said the Enclave trooper with an apologetic sigh.

'Urk,' gasped Amiable One, clutching his chest.

'Oh my God, are you okay?' asked the trooper.

Amiable One stooped over, drawing deep, gasping breaths. 'I'll be fine in a moment...you bastards.'

'Look, if it were up to me we'd all give Player Name a big hug and tell him everything's okay. But orders are orders so instead we're going to have to blow his brains out.'

'I won't talk,' said Nervous One Who'll Probably be the First One to Die, and was immediately hit by a burst of searing plasma, reducing her to a pile of green goo.

'You murderer!' yelled Liam Neeson. 'You won't get away with this.'

'I beg to differ,' said a voice with a southern accent, belonging to a man in a brown officer's uniform. He was tall and thin, with greying, sandy-coloured hair. His expression was grim and his eyes were ice-cold.

'Permit me to introduce myself,' he continued. 'I am Colonel Augustus Autumn of the United States Army.'

'Colonel?' said Liam Neeson.

'Yes, colonel,' said Autumn. 'It's a well-known fact that all officers in the US Army have southern accents. Now, I aim to find this cotton-pickin' Player Name character and you're going to tell me where he is.'

'I hate his guts, but I don't know where he is,' said Snooty One with a Superiority Complex.

'It's true,' said Dr Li. 'None of us knows where he is.'

Just at that moment, Player Name emerged from the men's bathroom amidst a cloud of steam, with only a towel around his waist.

'Ah,' he said, 'nothing like a refreshing hot shower for that all-over radioactive glow.' He caught sight of the power armoured men and squinted.

'Hey, are you from the Brotherhood of Steel? You look like them, only a bit more intimidating.'

'We ain't the Brotherhood,' said Colonel Autumn, 'but I'm guessing you're Player Name?'

'Why yes, I am. What can I do for you fine gentlem...'

A stream of plasma bolts fired in his direction sent Player Name sprawling to the ground, jolting his towel loose.

'Quickly,' said Liam Neeson, 'we have to get out of here. Follow me.'

The science team ran for their lives, only pausing to help Player Name off the floor.

'Hey wait.' yelled Player Name. 'I need to find som clothes.'

'No time,' said Liam Neeson, 'we need to get out of here!'

'You son of a bitch,' called Colonel Autumn. 'I'll kill you, and your little goat too. Get him!'

The team sprinted ahead, with the clanking sound of a dozen power-armoured troops close behind. 'Quickly,' said Liam Neeson. 'I know how we can escape.'

He directed them to a floor grate which they heaved open before scurrying down the rusty ladder one-by-one into the dark depths below. Player Name looked around in dismay.

'Well this is just great,' he said. 'We're in a sewer, and I'm naked.'

'Well if it's any consolation,' said Dr Li, 'I'm actually a lesbian.'

'Ah, well, at least there'll be nothing for Goatmeat to nibble on,' said Amiable One, 'but I guess we'd better press on before those Enclave maniacs find us. What say you, Liam Neeson?'

'Say, where is Liam Neeson?' said Dr Li.

'Dad?' said Player Name.

Uh oh, looks like he didn't make it,' said Slightly Shifty One.

'Oh no! We have to go back for him,' said Player Name.

'There's no time,' said Dr Li, 'we have to push on, otherwise we'll lose more people.'

'Liam Neeson. Nooooo!' called Amiable One, and was immediately struck by chest pains.

'Are you all right?' asked Player Name.

'Yeah...I'll be fine in a minute.'

'Come on!' snapped Snooty One. 'We need to move!'

And so the scientists, Player Name and Goatmeat advenced through the sewers, with the loss of Liam Neeson heavy on their minds. The way ahead was dark, and they were only able to see by the light of Player Name's Pip Boy, its light casting long eerie shadows against the filthy walls.

They trekked on for what seemed like hours through the cold damp labyrinth of corridors; at least Player Name found it cold.

'Do we even know where we're going?' asked Player Name.

'I do,' said Dr Li. 'Just follow my lead.' Suddenly she froze.

'What is it?'

'Up ahead. Look.'

It was difficult to make anything out, but by the Pip Boy light they could just about spot a human shape in the distance. As they squinted in the dim light they saw more figures; at least four.

'People live down here?' said Player Name.

Slightly Shifty One scowled. 'I wouldn't call them people.'

Suddenly, one of the figures appeared to turn in their direction. It paused to utter a blood-curdling scream before charging in their direction. The other figures, alerted, turned towards the group, uttered similar blood-curdling screams, before sprinting towards them. As they drew close, the group could see they were naked except for loincloths around their scrawny waists. Horrifyingly, their bodies appeared to be rotting away, giving them a zombie-like appearance.

'Feral ghouls!' called Dr Li as one of the creatures lunged at her throat. 'Help me!'


End file.
